


You Always Say No

by frizz22



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Mom!Zelda, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Self-Harm, Spellwood, Spoilers, Zelda POV, caos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2019-08-20 11:25:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 166,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16554878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frizz22/pseuds/frizz22
Summary: She'd said no and then given in too many times before with a loved one--and look where it had gotten them. She couldn't make the same mistakes with Sabrina.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just finished binge watching the show and Zelda is my absolute favorite--especially momma bear Zelda. I know they've given her a lot of depth and complexity, but I wanted to add a little more. There will be mentions of self-harm in future chapters, I'll put warnings in the notes on those though. Hope you enjoy!

“You cannot do this.” She hissed when Edward told her of his plans to marry a mortal. “The Dark Lord will not—” 

“Have a say. I love her, Zee. Diana is everything, and I **am** going to marry her.” 

Zelda’s heart clenched, this would only lead to death. “You mustn’t,” she reiterated, hating the pleading tone in her voice. “No. Think of anything other than your cock _for once_! Think of how this will end, not only for you but the rest of the family. Hilda, Ambrose, me.” 

Edward waved away her concern, “don’t be selfish, Zelda.” 

She sputtered, “I’m, I’m the one being selfish?!” She paced away and then rounded on her older brother. “You know the Dark Lord and the Church of Night inflict punishments beyond the offender. They seek to make examples, to make sure these types of behaviors and actions don’t run in the family. We will not be exempt from his wrath. As high priest you should know this better than most.” 

“I’ve made a deal.” 

Her eyebrows flew up, stunned. “A, a deal? What kind?” She asked, incredulous, this was certainly not what she expected. 

Edward avoided eye contact as he murmured, “I cannot say. But you and the others will be safe.” 

Zelda could already hear the alarm bells going off, something wasn’t right. “Edward,” she began to caution. 

“Part of the deal is that I cannot speak of it.” He snapped, clearly irritated by her opposition to his decision. 

“You cannot speak of it,” she repeated slowly, liking the situation less and less. “Eddie, this won’t end well. Don’t—” 

“It’s already done. The Dark Lord and I have come to an agreement and there is no backing out.” He interrupted her once more. 

Zelda gritted her teeth, “die then, you fool.” She spat, spinning on a heel to stalk out of the room before she destroyed something. 

“Zelds,” he called out softly, his tone differing greatly from the one he’d used moments before and it made her pause. “Will you come to the wedding? I need my favorite middle sister there.” 

She scoffed, hand gripping the doorframe so tightly her nails left little indents in the old wood. “Fine. But I’m wearing black, this is **not** a happy occasion.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a few more background chapters and then we'll dive into the show :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> someone asked if I was going to write the wedding. And IDK why I didn't do that initially. So here's an insert! Enjoy :)

It was the day before the wedding when Edward approached her. “Zelds? Can I ask you something? Will you speak at the wedding?” 

“Well, I wasn’t going to be a mute during the entire affair.” She deadpanned, flicking the newspaper back upright from where she’d let it droop to speak to her brother. Despite her protests to the whole thing surely he didn’t expect her to act without decorum. 

Edward plucked the paper from her hands, “not what I meant, Zelda. It is a mortal tradition, that a representative from each side of the bridal party speak during the ceremony. Well wishes and the like.” He watched her anxiously. 

Zelda resisted the urge to roll her eyes, opting instead to take a draw from her cigarette. She purposely blew the smoke at him. “No. I have no well wishes.” She went to extract the paper from his grip. 

“Zee, come on. It’s my wedding.” 

“Oh, I’m aware, I’m attending, aren’t I? It’s bad enough that it’s a mortal wedding ceremony to a mortal woman, now you want me to participate in their traditions? Edward,” she shook her head at him to indicate that he knew better than to ask more of her than her attendance. “Why don’t you ask Hilda? I’m sure she’d even shed some tears for the occasion.” 

Edward dropped his head in frustration, “because I want you, sister, to speak on my behalf.” 

Now she rolled her eyes. “What would I possibly talk about? I cannot mention our world, our traditions—which you are neglecting, I cannot ask Satan to grant the marriage longevity and happiness. Eddie, no. I will not stand in front of her coven and speak lies.” 

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Did you just call Diana’s family a coven?” 

“Wishful thinking.” She replied dryly, knocking the ash off her cigarette and standing. Knowing she wouldn’t get her newspaper back. 

“Zee, I’m asking you as your older brother.” 

She paused in the doorway, “oh, and were you not my older brother any other time you asked something of me these past decades?” She inquired over her shoulder. 

Edward sighed at her purposely obtuse interpretation. “I wouldn’t ask except, except traditionally it is the groom’s brother who makes the toast. But seeing as, as…” He trailed off, both of their gazes drifting over to where a picture of their deceased brother hung on the wall—a young Ambrose on his knee. “I would like you to speak, please. You are my favorite middle sister, after all.” 

“That is low,” she muttered, shifting to face him completely, arms crossed, though one held her cigarette aloft. “Invoking our dead brother’s, Satan rest his soul, memory to get your way.” 

He brightened, “so you’ll do it?” 

“Beelzebub curse you, but yes, I will.” 

Edward stood from the table and swooped her into a hug, startling her. “Thank you, Zelda!” He grinned spinning her a bit before putting her down again. 

“Yes, well,” she smoothed her hair back, trying not to show how happy her brother’s reaction had made her. “It’s nothing really.” 

Her brother saw through her façade of course and pecked an excited kiss to her cheek before he practically skipped out of the kitchen to deal with some other wedding errand. 

Zelda took a calming drag from her cigarette. “Satan help me,” she murmured, “what have I agreed to?” She then made her way upstairs to work on these ‘well wishes’. It wouldn’t do to be shown up by whatever mortal spoke for Diana. 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Edward found her later, surrounded by crumpled parchment with her discarded attempts at conveying his importance to her and her desperate wish that this all end happily. He reached for one of the balled-up papers and she froze his hand midair with a flick of her wrist. 

“Touch any of those and you won’t be at your wedding because you’ll be buried in the Cain pit.” She arched a brow at him threateningly before releasing him from her silent spell. 

Edward held up his hands in mock surrender before reaching into his pocket. He placed the small box next to her, “got you something,” he stated needlessly. 

“You don’t have to bribe me. I already said yes.” She remarked wryly, eyeing the small package. “Besides, doesn’t the groom normally receive gifts, not give them?” Zelda turned her attention back to the task at hand. 

He half sat on the table next to her. “Well, I’m following mortal ways here, sweet sister. I learned that it is customary to give a gift to the person making the toast on your behalf at the wedding. A show of appreciation and gratitude towards that person. And anyway, I saw this, and it screamed Zelda.” 

She looked at him skeptically and didn’t reach for the box. 

Sighing in exasperation, Edward picked up the gift and placed it in her hand. “Just open it, will you?” 

Zelda deftly opened the box and furrowed her brow in confusion. She plucked the tiny golden rod out and examined the two prongs that formed a ‘V’ on one end. “What is it supposed to be?” 

“Wha—, it’s a cigarette holder, Zee!” He announced indignantly, “here,” he snatched item from her and then took the lit cigarette she’d had resting in an ash tray next to her. “See?” He prompted, placing the cigarette between the prongs and holding it daintily to the side, before pretending to take a puff—clearly trying to mimic his sister. “Classy, right? Just like my little sis.” 

Zelda couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, alright.” She held out her hand and Edward passed the holder back. She tested it, blowing the smoke out of the corner of her mouth. “It is rather elegant,” she admitted, smiling. “Reminds me of the queen, at that dinner party where she made a servant hold her cigarette between smokes, do you remember?” She tapped the excess ash off the end using the handle of the holder. 

“Like it was only 40 years ago Zelds,” he reminisced, chuckling. 

“Thank you, Eddie. This was quite thoughtful.” She murmured, placing a hand on his forearm. 

“Anything for you Zelds,” he teased, kissing the top of her head. “I’ll leave you to it.” He gestured to the papers scattered around and left the room. 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

True to her word, Zelda wore all black, down to the sunglasses she wore throughout the ceremony. And if she occasionally dabbed underneath them, well the pollen was to blame. Why mortals were compelled to get married in the middle of a spring day she would never know. 

Though Hilda gushed about it the entire time they sat waiting for the ceremony to begin. She only fell quiet when Diana made her appearance at the head of the aisle. On Zelda's other side, Ambrose, who’d come home from university for the wedding, winked playfully at her before turning with the rest of the group. 

Zelda just praised Satan that they weren’t in a church and a judge from the local courthouse was performing the ceremony. The few witches that had been brave enough to attend would likely have burst into flame had there been any religious components from the false god. 

Despite herself, Zelda had to admit it was overall a nice event—considering that it followed mortal traditions. During the dinner afterwards, there was a sudden clinking of forks against glasses. Zelda looked around in confusion, and when she glanced at Hilda and Ambrose they simply shrugged. 

“It is now time for the maid of honor and the best ma—” the announcer began, only to be interrupted by Edward whispering in his ear. “Oh, best woman to speak on behalf of the couple.” 

There was a smattering of applause and Hilda elbowed her in the side when she didn’t move. “That’s you, Zelda.” She muttered through a smile. 

“Oh, right.” Zelda laid her cigarette down and made her way to the front table where Diana’s sister was driveling on about romance and fate. “Lucifer take me now,” Zelda mumbled under her breath, as she waited her turn. It appeared she hadn’t needed to put as much effort into the speech as she had, based on what this woman was going on and on about. 

In the end, Zelda had settled for something simple, yet heartfelt—sentiments only Edward was able to pull out of her publicly. She spoke of how Edward was the constant in their family, their rock and he’d protected them from everything no matter how big or small. And she knew that loyalty, that steadfastness and protection would extend to his new family as well. 

She smiled then, though it was a little strained, “I wish the greatest happiness onto you both. And may the higher powers bless this union.” Zelda raised her glass in conclusion, not missing how Ambrose smirked before taking a drink. 

Edward stood up abruptly and enveloped her in a crushing hug, having teared up slightly during her speech. Though touched, Zelda had expressed enough emotion for one night and merely whispered “get ahold of yourself,” before disengaging and heading back to her seat. 

“Very clever, auntie.” Ambrose grinned mischievously at her when she rejoined them. 

“Well it had to be said, just pray that it was enough to offset the rest of…this.” She gestured to the rest of the room with the cigarette she’d just picked up. 

Hilda huffed, “it’s lovely and you know it, Zelda. So was your speech, it was very sweet.” 

Zelda rolled her eyes but couldn’t quite suppress her smile. They spent the rest of the evening drinking too much, while she and Ambrose debated whether spiking the mortals’ beverages with lust potions would be frowned upon by the coven and Hilda assuring them it most certainly would. 

As the Spellman clan, minus Edward, left later that night—arms linked, Zelda couldn’t help but entertain the fleeting thought that saying yes to certain things wasn’t all that bad.


	3. Chapter 3

Diana had wanted a traditional mortal birth, in a hospital. Zelda was thankful that Edward convinced her otherwise, had convinced her to allow herself and Hilda to act as midwives. 

As the due date drew closer, all signs pointed to a baby girl. They were all ecstatic, another Spellman woman to join the ranks. Only Edward was reserved. Zelda rolled her eyes at his lack of enthusiasm, assuming he, like most warlocks, had wanted a male as his firstborn—to act as an heir. Really, it wasn’t the Victorian ages anymore, male heirs weren’t necessary to pass along family legacies. 

When it came time for the birth, they all made their way to the woods, Edward included—he refused to be bullied into staying behind under the pretext that birthing rituals did not involve men. She and Hilda had come days before to prepare the area, candles ringed the area and symbols were painted on the ground. 

Edward paced off to the side restlessly as Zelda and Hilda talked their sister-in-law through a labor assisted with potions and spells. Soon, Zelda was catching the babe with the ease borne from years of practice as it slipped out. She beamed as she suctioned the child’s mouth and nose before toweling the child dry—murmuring in Latin as she did. Hilda glanced up upon hearing her words, but said nothing, her attention too focused on the afterbirth. 

“It’s a girl.” Zelda announced proudly, handing the child over to an exhausted Diana with care. Tears of joy pricking her eyes at the sight of her niece, though she held them back. 

There were murmurs of congratulations and love, but Zelda couldn’t help but notice her brother seemed slightly pained by the whole ordeal. Truly, she’d have to have a conversation with him about male heirs-he was being ridiculous. To give the new family a bit of privacy, she and Hilda went about cleaning up the area, no need for mortals to find the remnants of a birthing ritual. 

When Edward finally took his daughter in his arms, he chuckled. “Zee, what did you do?” She merely hummed, blowing out candles and stowing them away. “She reeks of magic already, and I know it’s not hers.” He leveled her with a look. 

“Just a few protection spells, that’s all.” Zelda shrugged, “can’t have anything happening to my sweet little niece.” She smiled at the bundle in her brother’s arms, Sabrina, it was their mother’s middle name. 

“Sister,” Edward drew out the word, though amusement shown in his eyes. 

Diana switched her gaze between the two siblings. “She’s just a baby! What would she need protection from?!” The woman asked, eyes wide with fright. 

Edward placed a calming hand on his wife’s head, “nothing, my love. Zelda is just being overprotective, always has been.” He teased. “Which is why, she is perfect to be Sabrina’s Night Mother.” 

Zelda felt tears threaten to fall once more, and her eyes flicked to where Hilda was still collecting materials. “Oh, Eddie, no. I can’t. Are you, are you sure?” 

“Of course, Zelds. Will you accept?” 

“Yes. I’m honored.” A watery smile burst onto her face. She’d expected Hilda to be named Night Mother—she was always the most nurturing one of the Spellman siblings. But given the chance, how could she say no? 

Edward smiled at her, “here. Hold your niece and night-daughter then, sister.” And he placed Sabrina into her waiting arms and Zelda knew she was in love. 

She glanced up at Hilda and Diana for their reaction, however, the two were exchanging a look that left Zelda bewildered. But she quickly dismissed it, whatever they were plotting didn’t matter, her heart was too full.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, Zelda is a big softy in this chapter, but I think she's all fluff and love under her BAMF exterior.


	4. Chapter 4

She was working on a potion that would babyproof the cabinets—premature she knew, given Sabrina was only a few days old, but one could never be too prepared; especially with a magical child, when Edward walked into her work room. 

“Sister, I have a favor to ask.” He began, picking up a flask and playing with the rubber stopper. 

“What?” She inquired in a bored voice, barely raising her attention from the potion in front of her. She had to add just the right number of drops of this ingredient or she’d have to start all over again. When her brother remained silent, Zelda finally turned her gaze onto him—he was still fidgeting. “For the love of Lucifer, Edward, what is it?” 

Sighing, he replaced the flask and stopper on the table. “I am going into the woods tonight, to sign Sabrina’s name in the Book of the Beast. I would like you to accompany me as a witness.” 

Zelda blinked at him, nonplussed. “You’re doing what?” 

Edward bowed his head, “I am signing Sabrina’s name in the Dark Lord’s book tonight. I want you there, sister, to act as a witness.” 

“What the fuck are you thinking? Absolutely not. I will not be part of whatever twisted game you and the Dark Lord are playing.” She looked at her brother in disgust. Despite Zelda’s devotion to the Dark Lord and the Path of Night, even she didn’t think a child so young should be locked into the kind of service the Book demanded. 

He slammed his hands onto the table, rattling the glassware. “This isn’t a game, Zelda. It’s my price.” He brought his eyes back to hers and they were haunted. 

Dread and horror filled her, the meaning of his words registering. “No. No, no, no. You didn’t. Edward, tell me you didn’t.” 

“My deal with the Dark Lord, he would allow me to marry Diana, to protect everyone, if I signed my child’s name in the Book of the Beast within her first week of life.” He admitted, leaning heavily on the table, head lowered in shame. 

“Protect everyone?!” Her voice was shrill. “You protected everyone but your child and that is the one person, the **one person** in the realms you should have been concerned about the most.” 

Though not known for her calm temper, Zelda could have honestly said she’d never seen red before... until that moment. Until she realized that the brother she loved, admired and looked up to had used his child like a chess piece to get what he wanted. Until she realized that this was why he refused to tell her the year before what his deal with the Dark Lord was. 

Not because his silence was part of the deal...but because he'd known she wouldn't have stood for it. Because despite how much Zelda disliked the mortal woman who’d seduced Edward, she absolutely would’ve warned her about what her brother had promised. And then maybe Diana would’ve been scared away and prevented all of this from occurring. But is was far, far too late for that. 

She couldn’t help it, she used her magic to slam Edward into the opposite wall, the impact rattling the bottles of ingredients in the cabinets. “How _dare_ you bargain with your unborn child’s life for something as _fleeting_ as a marriage with a mortal. Edward, what the fuck were you thinking?” She continued to curse him, slipping into other languages when English wasn’t sufficient to convey her rage and disgust. 

“The ceremony is tonight at witching hour.” He informed her stiffly, cutting into her vicious tirade after recovering from being thrown. “As Sabrina’s Night Mother, you should be there.” 

Zelda’s body went rigid. “Is that why you named me Night Mother? To force me to witness this? Because you knew Hilda wouldn’t be able to stomach it?” Her voice, and heart, broke slightly at the thought that she had been first choice only because of this, this vile situation. “Well, let me tell you, Edward Spellman, I will not stomach it either.” 

Edward speared his hands through his hair, “of course not. I made you her Night Mother because it was plain to see that you loved Sabrina and I wanted you to be the one to raise her should anything happen.” 

“I do love her, and for that reason I will not support you in this.” Zelda raised her chin a notch in defiance. 

“It is happening tonight regardless of your presence, sister. If necessary I will get one of my acolytes to act as witness—though you know how the Dark Lord frowns upon anyone other than a Night Mother sponsoring a new child of the Path of Night.” Edward spoke coldly, and she had never hated him more. She could try and kill him, throw him in the Cain pit and buy some time to figure this out. 

But what would happen to Edward if his price was not paid on the Dark Lord’s timeline? What would happen to Sabrina if her name wasn’t signed? Though staunchly against the entire thing, Zelda caved in to her brother’s threat of carrying out the ceremony without her—knowing he was not one to make empty declarations. 

“I’ll be there,” she snarled, pushing past him and going upstairs. Hating that she’d agreed, hating what Edward had done, hating the Dark Lord for naming her niece as his price…just hating. Trying to calm herself, Zelda made her way into the nursery. 

Surprisingly, Sabrina had slept through her aunt’s outburst. Zelda leaned over the crib and gently brushed a finger against the girl’s soft cheek. “I am sorry, little one.” She murmured, forcefully wiping back a tear. “Though I want you in our world, I did not want it like this.” Zelda allowed Sabrina to curl her tiny hand around her finger and took calming breathes, trying to time them with the rise and fall of her niece’s stomach. 

She could go to Hilda, see if her sister had any thoughts on what to do. But Zelda hadn’t seen her sister since yesterday, and even then, she’d been acting oddly. No, it was best that Hilda didn’t know. Hilda, sweet Hilda, wore far too much on her sleeve and had trouble keeping secrets. Zelda would have to carry this one on her own. The less people who knew about the horrendous price of her brother’s disgrace the better. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

That night, she’d attended the first dark baptism she did not approve of, and she spent the entire proceedings in conflict; her mind warring with her heart. Knowing that Edward had no choice, but at the same time she wanted to snatch her niece from the alter and run back to the house, throwing up as many protection spells as she could manage before Edward, or anything else, caught her. 

To ensure she didn’t grab Sabrina and flee, Zelda kept her hands busy by stress smoking an entire pack of cigarettes—lighting one off the other before replacing it on her holder. 

When the event finally ended, she turned and stalked off back to the house—forcing Edward to jog to catch up, jostling Sabrina a bit. When the house came into view he caught her arm and spun her slightly, forcing her to face him. 

“Promise me she’ll sign the Book of the Beast on her 16th birthday.” He demanded, eyes wild. 

Zelda blinked, the plea startling her from her resolution not to speak to her brother for a while. “What—?” 

“It is her path, she must sign the book again. She needs to be a witch, Zelda. It is my wish, her destiny, that she follows our side of the family.” His grip on her forearm tightened painfully, “promise me you’ll help Sabrina on her way.” 

She wrenched her arm free, fear crawling up the back of her throat as she took several steps back. “Why are you speaking as if—” 

“Do you promise me?!” Edward repeated anxiously. 

“No! No, not until you explain—" 

“Zelds, please.” The desperation in his plea made his voice raw, and this scared her even more. 

Zelda found herself nodding, “I will do everything in my power to help Sabrina.” She whispered, unnerved by Edward’s behavior, though not unnerved enough to make such an absolute promise. She didn’t like it, this reeked of ill-fated things, so she made a promise—just not quite the one Edward had demanded. 

But it appeased him, had him sighing in relief and continuing their walk back to the house. Zelda followed, a step behind, eyeing her brother wearily. She had a feeling this would not end well for any of them.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: Spoiler, spoiler for episode 9……
> 
>  
> 
> Okay, this ignores what Diana told Sabrina when they met in limbo about her baby dying after the baptism. It never made sense to me, her baby is baptized, taken away and dies and so she goes to Italy? Anyway, that’s taken out. Enjoy :)

“We’re going to Rome tomorrow night.” He informed her two months later at breakfast while reading the paper. 

Zelda furrowed her brow, hand frozen midair where it had been spreading jam on her toast. “You’re going where?” 

“Rome. Diana and I. Business for the Church of Night.” He elaborated, turning the page with deliberate nonchalance, still not looking at her. 

She narrowed her eyes, “tomorrow.” It was becoming a nasty habit of his to spring these types of things on her last minute. Not to mention that just a few months prior he’d begged her to look after and care for Sabrina—acting as though the Dark Lord was unsatisfied with his price and likely to extinguish Edward as collateral. Clearly her brother now thought those fears to be unfounded, but this sudden turn around was suspicious. Then it clicked. 

“Satan help us, you’re running.” She closed her eyes, asking Satan for patience. “You must know that you can’t outrun the mess you’ve made.” Zelda leveled a look at him, though he was still hiding behind the paper. 

Despite the Dark Lord’s ‘approval’, the rest of the coven had not been accepting of their high priest’s choice of bride. And even less accepting of what they call a ‘half-breed’, ‘mutt’, and ‘mongrel’ of a child. A dead dog had been nailed to their door just last week. 

Edward lowered his paper with an air of forced calm. “This is not—” 

“It is. No. You can’t go. Your reputation, the Spellman name, is still recovering from _your_ actions.” She pointed a finger at him briefly, “you need to stay here and continue your work at the Academy. Repair the damage you’ve done.” Her voice was calm, commanding, but her grip tightened unconsciously—her toast began to crumble. She put it down before she crushed it entirely, he wouldn’t dare leave the rest of them waist deep in this mess. 

“Sister, it is not up to me. The Academy and Church are the ones sending me on this trip. And Diana and I thought we might stay a bit longer to make a honeymoon out of it.” He paused a moment, “watch over Sabrina?” 

“And if I say no?” She asked haughtily, arching a brow and wiping her hands clean. 

Edward grinned, “I’ll ask Hilda. And if she proves too busy, then I always suppose Ambrose…” He let the sentence hang there. Zelda pressed her lips together, he knew just what to say to get her to acquiesce. She and Hilda were both quite busy, their midwifery business had really taken off—likely it would’ve taken both of them to watch Sabrina anyway. 

And Ambrose, sweet Ambrose, had recently been punished to being housebound for 75 years. The boy was understandably sullen, angry and confused. And certainly unable to care for Sabrina. 

“Come on, Zee. I know you love Sabrina, it will only be two weeks.” 

Anger began to simmer in her gut, around anyone else she was calm, collected, calculating—some even said cold. But Edward, Edward was one of the few people capable of making her display her temper outwardly. He was the only one who could talk her into doing things she often thought weren’t good ideas. And, unfortunately, he was also one of the few people she couldn’t persuade, bully or threaten into doing what she wanted. Quite the unlucky combination to have in an older sibling. Satan take him. 

Maybe this was why Cain killed Abel—not because of sacrifices or anything to do with the Dark Lord or the false god, but because his brother was infuriating. Zelda could certainly relate. 

“Watching her isn’t what I have a problem with.” She managed primly, “you shouldn’t be going.” She lit a cigarette, appetite gone. “I don’t like this,” Zelda added, with a quieter voice than before. 

“When did you become so superstitious, Zelds?” Edward laughed, getting up from the table to leave for work. 

She snorted indelicately, superstitious please, it was logic. “When your parishioners started tacking dead animals to our front door.” She retorted, standing to follow and argue further. She was brought up short though, the anxious husband of one of her clients astral projecting into the kitchen in front of her. His wife had gone into labor, three weeks early. 

Zelda nodded and snatched her medical bag, she could always speak to Edward later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out I had more background chapter ideas than I initially thought....I will eventually get to the show, I promise.


	6. Chapter 6

Zelda tried to maintain her composure, as they sat in Faustus Blackwood’s office, though a tear or two may have streaked down her cheek regardless. Hilda made no such effort—her emotions blatantly on display, Zelda frowned at her sister's lack of self-control but said nothing. 

Faustus had summoned them, told them to come to the Academy at once. There had been a tragic accident. The plane carrying Edward and his wife had crashed on its way to Italy. The plane was in pieces, no chance of survival—though no bodies had been found. 

After the initial shock, a sort of numbness stole over her--allowing her to think far more critically than she would have anticipated following the news of her brother's death. Accident indeed, she scoffed to herself. This was _no_ coincidence. Her brother had broken the oldest and most sacred of witch laws and then flaunted it. Even with his price paid, the Dark Lord had wanted more. Wanted to make an example—just as she’d predicted over a year ago. She knew mercy wasn’t something shown in any capacity by the Dark Lord. That, coupled with Edward’s odd behavior after Sabrina’s initial dark baptism, made Zelda all the more suspicious. 

“Who else was on the plane?” She inquired hoarsely when Faustus paused. 

“Hmm?” 

“Who else was on the plane with Edward and Diana?” She repeated, voice sharper this time. 

Faustus furrowed his brow, “just the pilot. Why?” 

“If there were many families with lost loved ones, I would’ve suggested a memorial for them.” She lied, forcing a sympathetic smile. And if it was strained, well who could blame a grieving sister for not being able to produce a genuine smile? 

Bowing his head in agreement, Faustus patted her hand. “Oh sister Zelda, we will hold one for Edward anyway. He was a valued member of the Church of Night.” 

Zelda nodded in faux appreciation. The information that the one other person on the plane was the pilot only further confirmed her suspicions. It would have been easy enough for the Dark Lord to find a patsy. Easy enough to convince the man that it was the Dark Lord’s will that the plane carrying his disgraced and disobedient high priest and mortal wife crash in the ocean. That if the pilot carried out this murder-suicide he would be rewarded in the afterlife. 

She swallowed the bile that burned up the back of her throat. Faustus had been talking the entire time, giving his condolences and offering the support of the Church of Night. Zelda had never wanted less to do with the church in her life. Her beloved church, the powerful and dark being she’d trusted and believed in had taken her brother. It was not something she wanted to believe—but knew was true. 

She had always known her church was dangerous, violent even, and she’d reveled in that; the rituals, black mass, the hellishly delicious darkness of it all. Reveled in the absolutes of the religion, that the Dark Lord did not suffer mistakes and rewarded those who were devout and worked hard. 

Now, though? She had no faith in a Dark Lord that would kill his own high priest after the agreed upon debt was already paid. She had no faith in a Dark Lord that had forced her to help sell her infant niece and then stole her brother anyway. In that moment, Zelda felt that faith she’d held for decades shatter beyond repair. And for a second, she almost wanted to mourn the loss of that as well. But the pain of losing her belief system paled in comparison to the loss of her older brother, her Eddie. So, she shoved it aside. 

She didn’t have the time or luxury to mourn. Zelda suddenly found herself the guardian of a 3-month old, head of the Spellman household, and new owner of the mortuary. And she could already feel the weight of it all settling heavily on her shoulders. 

Zelda was only half paying attention to what the warlock in front of her was saying. Too lost in her inner turmoil and sudden weight of new responsibilities to focus—until he mentioned who would raise Sabrina. 

“We will.” She stated in a tone that brokered no argument. Zelda peered down at the tiny bundle in her arms—Sabrina was watching her with wide eyes, and Zelda barely caught the sob that tried to wrench itself from her throat. The child had her brother’s eyes. 

Faustus steepled his fingers on top of his desk, “the child does have a mortal family as well, perhaps she would…” 

“No.” Her tone was icy and hard as she brought her gaze back to Faustus. The church had killed her brother and now it was trying to banish the evidence of his law breaking to the mortal world. And if Sabrina was entrusted to the mortals it would be that much easier for the more extreme members of the Church of Night to target her. That much easier for them to try and erase the ‘half-breed’ from their midst. 

Well, Zelda would not let that happen. Not her niece, not Eddie’s little girl. If they wanted Sabrina, they’d have to come through her first. No, the mortals couldn’t protect Sabrina; the best and safest place for her was with Zelda. 

Her grip on Sabrina had tightened unconsciously at these thoughts, until the small girl whimpered in discomfort. Zelda immediately loosened her hold and cooed at the babe until she calmed. Faustus complimented her maternal instincts, stating that perhaps they were the better guardians for Sabrina after all. 

Zelda repressed the urge to slap the man. Likely he’d played no part in her brother’s demise—but he’d benefited from it, was now high priest because of it. And that was crime enough in her eyes. 

But she knew, if she were to be honest, Zelda was truly angry at herself. She’d let Edward down, had known the trip was ill-fated and yet had done nothing to stop him. She’d said no and then given in—again. 

She straightened her back, she’d caved in too many times before with a loved one—and look at where it had gotten them. She couldn’t make the same mistakes with Sabrina. 

The girl was far to young to understand, too young to remember the somewhat softer side of her Aunt Zelda—perhaps that was for the best. Because from here on out, Zelda would have to be firm. She’d have to be the strength of the Spellman family, the stoic backbone that kept them together. She’d have to carry them, provide for them, make sure they were protected—as Edward had done. 

Her memory flickered back to Edward’s wedding, when she’d been so reckless, stupid and selfish as to participate in mortal traditions solely to make her brother happy. Such nonsense could no longer be tolerated. She couldn’t blunder like that again. Couldn’t give the church cause to doubt them, couldn’t give the coven cause to come after what remained of her family. 

Zelda decided then that she could never allow the church to know she’d lost her faith. No, she’d have to continue her role, play the part of devout witch if she wanted to ensure her family’s safety from the Church of Night, its followers and the Dark Lord. 

So, as they left Zelda thanked Faustus, thanked the church and murmured all the right things about how the Dark Lord simply couldn’t wait any longer to call Edward to his side—all while not believing a word that left her lips. 

She and Hilda headed home in a daze, and if she allowed Hilda to reach for and hold her hand that wasn’t cradling Sabrina as they entered the grounds…well, it was extenuating circumstances. As the house came into view, however, it struck her suddenly, sharply, that Edward was never coming back. 

He would never tease her, infuriate her, or test her again. Would never again talk her into doing something. Would never again sit beside her after she’d already driven Hilda away with her ire and wait so patiently until he was able to draw out of her what she tried to keep buried. 

He would never see Sabrina grow up, flourish as a young woman and become a witch. It was home, but the person she’d loved most in it, the person who could always make her smile or laugh—however reluctantly, the person who understood her better than anyone was gone. 

The thought was too much to bear. Zelda stumbled and then fell to her knees, though she kept a firm hold on Sabrina. The sobs and tears she’d forced down before came pouring out. Hilda dropped to her knees beside her a moment later, wrapping her arms around her older sister—rubbing a hand on her back, tears leaking down her own face. 

Surprisingly, Hilda remained silent. Zelda thought it was likely because she’d never seen her sister in such a state before. They remained there for some time. Until Sabrina’s cries joined theirs. Slowly, the sisters stood, brushed off their clothes and made their way to the house once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know I deviated. But I **loved** the idea of Zelda losing faith but feeling as though she had to keep up the outward appearance to keep her family safe. I think it fits with how often she puts her religion aside for her family.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this one is _really_ long. But I couldn’t find a good spot to cut it short, so sorry if it rambles…enjoy!

Zelda didn’t even try to sleep that night—she knew she wouldn’t be able to. Between the news of Edward’s death and her sudden disillusionment of the church…well, her nerves were far too shot for rest, regardless of the exhaustion tugging at her. 

Hilda had put Sabrina to bed an hour earlier, but now Zelda found herself drifting into the nursery—needing to reassure herself that her niece was alright. It hit her then, that this would be something she needed to reassure herself of for the rest of her life; that her niece was safe, healthy, happy. And it was now her responsibility to make sure Sabrina was all those things. 

Dread settled in her gut, she likened it to a lead weight. What if she wasn’t good enough? What if she messed up or Sabrina hated her? The insecurity, the anxiety crashed over her like waves. Is this what it felt like, to be a parent? To have this elation at the mere existence of the child and the dread of the any possible negative future rising and falling hand-in-hand within her? Would it ever disappear? 

Unlikely, though she'd have years to learn that. Tonight, well tonight she had other matters to attend. Instructing Vinegar Tom to watch over the girl, Zelda enchanted the nursery mirror to connect with a small handheld one she could carry with her before heading to Edward’s office. 

She wanted to dig through the contents of her brother’s workroom, determined to find some shred of evidence that he’d known this was coming. And if he had and hadn’t told her, warned her, had gotten on that Satan forsaken plane anyway—well, he was lucky he was already dead and out of her reach if that was the case. 

After an hour of searching, Zelda came across his will—buried under some research journals. Her eyes widened upon discovering that the document had been updated within the past month…though she was quick to scold herself at how her heart pounded. Most wills were updated after the birth of a child—it didn’t allude to anything sinister. 

Still, she sat, lit a cigarette and began to read. Most of it was simple housekeeping items; the future of the mortuary—passed to her or the next eldest Spellman, the guardianship of Sabrina—Zelda was listed as the primary and Hilda the secondary guardian, arrangements for the house, his research, his belongings…his funeral. A pang shot through her. 

It requested that Zelda speak at the funeral. She clutched the paper, and had it not been charmed to be indestructible it likely would have ripped in two. 

“No,” she scowled. “No, don’t make me do it, Edward. I can’t. I can’t stand in front of them and act like this was some tragic thing.” He knew she wasn’t sentimental, and still he asked. Apparently, she’d set a dangerous precedent when she’d agreed to speak at his wedding, and now he was taking advantage. Edward also would’ve known while writing this that she wouldn’t, couldn’t, refuse—not one of his last requests in death. 

Zelda pushed away from the desk and stood so forcefully that the chair fell back with a bang. She started to pace, how was it that even when he was dead, her brother could still make her agree to things she didn’t want to? A small whimper emanated from the enchanted mirror she’d propped up on the desk, causing her to freeze mid-stride. Sabrina only shifted and fell back asleep. 

Exhaling in relief, Zelda carefully righted the chair, lecturing herself about using silencing spells or simply being quiet when a sleeping baby was in close proximity. She was certainly off to a wonderful start with this whole guardian thing. 

She took several deep breaths to try and calm herself, though anger still flowed through her at Edward’s request. And really, anger was far better than grief, so she gave up on calm and let the anger rise within her until it burned out everything else. She sighed, almost relieved, when the anger peaked. Yes, this she knew, this she could manage. 

Deciding to put a little more space between herself and the nursery should her anger increase in volume again, Zelda made her way to the kitchen—not bothering with the lights. As she poured herself a very healthy measure of whiskey, she reviewed the will once more. Debating whether she should just spite Edward for the hell of it and tell Hilda to deliver the eulogy. 

But then, then she heard him. _No, sweet sister, you are the head of the Spellman family now. It is expected, it is necessary that you are the one to speak. Being the eldest is never easy, especially when it is inherited. But you must fulfill your duties._

Zelda rolled her eyes but found herself nodding. Only minimally concerned that she was responding to a voice in her head. Whether it had truly been Edward reaching out to her from beyond the grave or merely her exhausted subconscious manifesting itself as her brother for comfort, she knew it was right. 

It was her duty. Just another on an ever-growing list. So, she lit another cigarette and carried her whiskey over to the table. She’d inform Hilda in the morning about the will and its contents, at least _one_ of them should sleep. 

Zelda took a long, fortifying drag of nicotine and started the plans for her brother’s funeral in the mostly dark kitchen. 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

She was numb. Praise Satan. 

She’d nicked the balm Hilda had made months ago for a pregnant client who’d just learned that her lover wasn’t going to be leaving his wife. The woman had declined and left. Hilda had then stored the balm on a shelf in the kitchen cupboard, intoning ‘waste not, want not’ in her irritatingly cheerful manner. 

Zelda had gone looking for it after tears had ruined yet another piece of parchment she’d been using to write the eulogy. And she’d been using it quite liberally for the past several days, really so much more got done when emotions were removed from the equation. 

Though commonly referred to as the ‘broken-heart balm’, the concoction’s uses went far beyond that of pain stemming from lost romantic love. It dealt in all manners of emotional pain and even dulled other emotions as well, if enough was used. And she certainly was using plenty. 

She’d applied even more of the balm than usual that morning. It would prevent any kind of outburst during the funeral. She couldn’t afford another emotional breakdown like the one she’d had the other night after they’d returned from the Academy. It wouldn’t do to appear weak in the eyes of the coven. They’d all be watching like hawks, waiting to see what the Spellman family did now that it had fallen so far. Zelda would, and had to, show them that the Spellman’s persevered. That the Spellman’s were strong and weren’t going anywhere. So she’d used a little extra balm, readied Sabrina and made her way downstairs. 

Hilda was sniffling as she puttered around the kitchen and Zelda briefly squeezed her sister’s shoulder as she passed and took her seat at the table; placing Sabrina in the bassinet next to her chair and with a flick of her wrist the thing was rocking gently on its own accord. 

“Zelds,” Hilda acknowledged. “Breakfast?” 

“No, thank you.” She reached for a cigarette instead, her appetite gone. 

Hilda clucked at her, “you know smoking is bad for—” 

Had she been capable of feeling at the moment, Zelda might have had a flash of irritation at her sister’s suggestion that she would harm Sabrina in any way. But the balm was working wonders, so instead she interrupted Hilda in a bored tone. “I’ve already cast a spell so that she can’t inhale the second-hand smoke.” Zelda arched a brow and lit her cigarette despite Hilda’s protest. 

“Are you ready for—” Hilda began to ask, placing a plate of toast in front of her even with her assertion that she wasn’t hungry when she suddenly froze and sniffed. “Are…are you using the anōdynos* balm?” 

“Hmm?” Zelda picked up the paper to hide, while she may have a world class poker face, Hilda somehow had the ability to see through it at the most inopportune moments. 

“You are!” 

“I don’t know what—” 

“I can smell it, Zelda. And you must be using _far_ too much if I can smell it.” Hilda flattened the paper between them with a hand. Something she would not have been brave enough to do had Zelda’s temper been properly functioning—such an action likely would’ve resulted in a trip to the Cain pit or a withering insult at least. 

“Nonsense.” Zelda moved to pull the paper out from Hilda’s hand. 

But her sister didn’t budge. “No, it’s not. In the proper quantities the balm has no scent—and to the untrained nose there might not be one no matter the amount used. But I brewed that, I know how it smells. Zelda, you can’t—” 

Just then Ambrose shuffled into the kitchen, “morning, aunties.” He greeted them morosely, too caught up in his own grief to realize he’d interrupted anything. Hilda’s attention was immediately diverted, bustling over to fuss over Ambrose and his breakfast. 

Zelda sighed quietly, she wouldn’t have won that argument. But she also knew it wasn’t over—not with the looks Hilda was shooting at her. Standing, Zelda snuffed out her cigarette, collected Sabrina and left the room. Stating she had final preparations to complete at the Church of Night before the others arrived for the funeral. 

~~~~~~~~ 

When it came time for the eulogy, Zelda had passed Sabrina to a sobbing Hilda and made her way up front. She’d spoken mechanically, saying what was expected of her—parroting words from the unholy bible and nothing had ever seemed so hollow as this speech. 

She concluded with a ‘praise Satan’ and had she not numbed herself to near oblivion she would’ve laughed. Laughed at how easily the expression came to her tongue. But perhaps it was for the best that some habits died hard. 

Faustus had been standing to the side, waiting to return to the front and finish the service. As Zelda moved to take her seat again, the same bland expression on her face, she noticed the new high priest eyeing her with some concern. Had this been any other day, under any other circumstance, had she not essentially excised her own feelings—this look alone would’ve had her mind racing at the implications. 

She could have given him a sign—to let him know she was alright, but others were watching too, and she wouldn’t give them the pleasure of reacting. And if anyone called her heartless for not even shedding a tear or two at her brother’s funeral…well, she was getting used to the description by now. 

Zelda reclaimed Sabrina upon sitting, unsure whether Hilda could hold herself together and hold their niece at the same time. Fussing with Sabrina gave her excuse not to listen to Faustus either, why bother? It was more empty words. As empty as the casket they were burying. 

The entire funeral was a sham, her brother had been murdered and everyone around her kept murmuring about tragedies and unforeseen events. How even the Dark Lord couldn’t protect every member of his coven at all times. 

But appearances had to be maintained, the family had to be protected. So, she’d hummed and nodded in all the right places, Sabrina nestled in one arm, while the other rested on Ambrose’s shoulder—he’d been given special leave to attend the funeral. 

When Faustus approached them, once more offering condolences, he placed a hand on Zelda’s upper arm, his thumb stroking along the fabric of her dress. What mildly surprised her, was the slight shiver that coursed through her at the touch—the balm was wearing off. They needed to wrap this up and leave before the effects disappeared entirely and she made a fool of herself in front of the entire coven. 

Quickly making excuses about diaper changes and feeding schedules, Zelda propelled Ambrose and Hilda out of the church and into the cool night air. Once away from the crowd, they all joined hands and Zelda teleported them back to the house. 

Ambrose disappeared into his bedroom, stating he had research to do, but Zelda heard a sniffle as he retreated. She frowned slightly but let him go, he needed to grieve alone—she understood that. Perhaps she’d send some calming tea to him later, under the pretext that it was actually Hilda sending it, of course. 

First though, Sabrina did need fed. So, Zelda slipped into the kitchen where Hilda already had a bottle prepared. She handed her niece over and made to retreat when Hilda’s voice caught her. 

“You need to stop using it.” 

No use in pretending, she’d already been caught. Sighing, “I’m—” 

“Not using it properly. You’re numbing yourself, Zee. It isn’t healthy.” Hilda remarked, eyes focused intently on Sabrina. 

She almost snorted, “well, neither are any of my other coping mechanisms.” She quipped, sitting down at the table—knowing Hilda would just chase her down later to have this conversation, and taking a long draw from the cigarette she’d just lit. 

Hilda frowned, finally looking up at her older sister. “The balm can have prolonged effects if it’s continuously misused. Permanently muted emotions.” She emphasized, eyes wide. 

“Some would say that’s not a change.” Zelda replied dryly, knocking the ash off into a nearby tray. And when her comment had Hilda looking at her in alarm, she added, “it was only for the funeral. You know how the coven would talk if I made a scene.” 

The alarmed look turned into a skeptical one. “You’ve been using it longer than that, Zelda. I found the container, it’s nearly empty! There was enough in there for a few weeks at least.” 

Zelda rolled her eyes, of course Hilda had gone looking for the balm. The unfortunate part now was that she’d have to find other means to mute the pain—her eyes drifted over to the liquor cabinet. Whiskey was always promising. 

Hilda kicked her gently under the table to regain her attention. “You need to let yourself feel, Zee.” 

“But do I really?” She asked, arching a brow. 

A tear slid down Hilda’s cheek at her apathetic exterior. “I already lost my brothers. I’m not going to lose my sister too.” 

She scoffed, “I’m not going anywhere.” Zelda was suddenly exhausted—likely due to a combination of the funeral and the last effects of the balm wearing off. To prevent any unnecessary emotions from making an appearance, she stood to leave. “Put Sabrina to bed, will you? I have some things to rearrange upstairs.” 

Hilda caught her arm, “Zelds…” 

In an uncharacteristic move, Zelda bent and hugged Hilda, so quickly the woman didn’t have a chance to respond before Zelda had pulled away and was walking towards the stairs. She could always blame the sudden return of all emotions for this little slip up in her cold façade. “I’m not going anywhere.” She repeated reassuringly before adopting her unaffected tone once more. “Besides, who would keep this place running if I was gone?” 

Hilda gave her a small smile and Zelda hurriedly escaped with a short whistle to Vinegar Tom—at this he’d popped up from his basket and followed his mistress out of sight. 

As she made her way to their bedroom, Zelda couldn’t help but acknowledge that Hilda was right—not that she’d ever admit it. She couldn’t numb everything, despite the temptation. She had seen the looks certain members of the coven had given Sabrina. The dark, dangerous looks—the mutterings of half-breed under their breaths. 

No, if she was to protect her niece, she’d need to feel everything. So that if anyone or thing came for the girl, well, they’d be able to experience the full range of her wrath and power. 

So, while Hilda finished feeding Sabrina, Zelda got to her rearranging. Familiars and enchanted mirrors were all well and good, but they certainly wouldn’t be enough should anything come in the night for Sabrina. 

Entering the bedroom she shared with Hilda, Zelda surveyed her belongings…really only a few things needed to be moved. Nodding to herself, Zelda waved a hand and her bed and trunk levitated, shrunk and began to float out the door and down the hall. She’d stay in the nursery with Sabrina, at least until the uproar over a high priest’s death faded. Until she felt as though nothing would come for Sabrina, either to drag her to hell or to kill her. 

Hilda said nothing when she entered the nursery to ready Sabrina for bed and found Zelda’s things there. Knowing better than to challenge her sister too much in one day—for fear of finding herself in the Cain pit. And she’d already challenged her about the balm, that had been a victory, no need to tempt fate. 

Zelda’s reentry to the room, in her nightgown and robe, interrupted Hilda’s thoughts. “She ready?” Hilda nodded and handed their niece over. 

“Zelds…” 

“Sleep well, sister.” She interrupted, turning her back to Hilda, swaying slightly to coax Sabrina the rest of the way to sleep. Zelda was in no mood to discuss her decision to move, unsure that she would be able to truthfully describe her motives. 

She caught the furrow of Hilda’s brow in the reflection of the mirror, but her sister only replied, “you too, Zee,” before leaving the nursery. 

Zelda focused her attention of the bundle in her arms and continued to rock the child until she was sound asleep. Carefully, Zelda placed her in the crib before pulling a chair up and settling in for the night. She had no plans to sleep, she couldn’t risk being caught unawares again. Couldn’t risk being blindsided by the church or its members and be left with another dead family member. 

So, she pulled the loaded gun out from under her mattress—it had been woefully easy to acquire, and though she loathed the idea of relying on a mortal weapon, she thought it might pay off to protect her mixed niece with a mix of mortal and witch defenses. 

Leaning back in her chair, Zelda rested the gun in her lap, hand gripping the handle, and conjured a fireball in the other hand. Nothing would get to her niece. But in case her stamina failed her, Zelda ordered Vinegar Tom to stay at Sabrina’s side at all times—no matter what situation Zelda herself might be in. He’d argued with her, of course, stating his job was to protect her not someone else. 

She glared at him until his tail dipped down between his legs and the informed him that Sabrina was far more important and if he chose her over the babe…well, she’d have him taxidermized and put on a shelf in the kitchen. He’d looked at her glumly then, as only a bloodhound could, but nodded and curled up on the floor next to the crib. 

She rarely slept, even when she’d finally moved ‘camp’ from the chair next to the crib to her own bed in the corner of the nursery two weeks after the funeral. Sure that the Dark Lord would come or send some minion to snatch Sabrina and bring her to the underworld. 

Hilda tried to convince her to sleep when it became apparent that she wasn’t, but her attempts were fruitless. Her sister must have put it down to Zelda being paranoid—the fear that she’d lose another family member so abruptly the reason she was keeping watch each night. And Hilda wasn’t entirely wrong, but neither was she entirely right about what motivated Zelda either. Not that she was going to correct her sister, she certainly wasn’t going to tell her the truth about the root of her terror. 

That Sabrina’s name was in the Book of Beasts already, that, as powerful as Zelda was, she likely wouldn’t be able to stop much at all if the Dark Lord truly tried to claim her niece. Damn Edward and his selfish, arrogant actions she’d thought countless times during those long nights. Angrily wiping away tears that the thought of her dead brother conjured. 

However, even witches couldn’t sustain such an exhausting routine forever. And the effects quickly made themselves apparent. When Zelda had drifted off at breakfast for the third time in 30 minutes about a month after the funeral, Hilda tentatively offered to take shifts. Seeing as how she couldn’t convince Zelda to abandon her nightly vigil completely, perhaps she could ease the burden. 

But Zelda couldn’t let anything happen to Hilda either. What if the night the Dark Lord or the coven came for Sabrina was when Hilda was on watch? Then she’d lose them both in one night. So, she refused the offer, using her normal, derisive tone—refusing to put Hilda in danger and knowing her rudeness was the quickest way to dissuade Hilda from pursuing the conversation. Hilda had frowned but dropped the topic. 

In the months that followed, the snatches of sleep she did get had her waking in a panic that didn’t abate until she held Sabrina close. Every now and then she’d go to rest her eyes, just for a moment, and wake hours later—she started to suspect Hilda was dosing her tea with foxglove. 

Zelda said nothing, knowing Hilda meant well. And truthfully, she needed the rest and it was far easier to have it forced upon her than to take it voluntarily. 

It was only three months after Edward’s death that Zelda began to sleep through the night—well, as much as someone sharing a room with a 6-month old could sleep through the night. And it was another three months after that that she moved back into the room she shared with Hilda. 

Her fears had not been completely assuaged, but it had been 6 months since the funeral and nothing had come, so they’d diminished enough that she no longer felt compelled to stay in the nursery. 

Familiars, enchanted mirrors and numerous protection spells seemed to be enough. And though there was plenty of space in the house now that Edward and Diana were gone, neither sister had it in them to take the spare room for themselves. They’d convert it to a workroom of some sort for now…or maybe just not touch it at all, for a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anōdynos—Latin for relieving pain


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I was on a trip and then MoonshineMadame's comment on the last chapter inspired me to write an additional chapter before the one I had initially planned. Enjoy :)
> 
> Warning: some violence in this chapter--nothing crazy, but just wanted to say.

In the end, they came for Sabrina—just as she’d predicted. Though they had bided their time, Zelda had to give them that. Sabrina had only just turned two years old the month before. Maybe they’d thought she’d grow lax, all this time after Edward’s death. Lulled into a false sense of security. 

She was happy to show them the error in their thinking. Would gladly make sure this was the last mistake they ever made. 

But for now, she was content to watch them squirm. There were three of them, now all nicely trussed up and gagged in the morgue. Zelda eyed them from where she was leaning against the far wall, taking a long drag from her cigarette. They’d tried to enter the house in multiple places; one through the kitchen window, another through the parlor window and the third had been bold enough to try the front door. 

Of course, she’d been woken up the moment they set foot on the grounds. They hadn’t been able to teleport in—her regularly refreshed protection spells saw to that. So, they’d had to approach on foot, covering at least 20 yards to reach the house. 

It had been insultingly easy to capture them. She’d been expecting more of a fight, more witches. Really, did the name Zelda Spellman not inspire the fear and respect it once had? Well, after this it certainly would. 

Zelda flicked her wrist and the gag of the youngest witch, Sara, vanished. The woman gulped for air, tears streaming down her face. 

“Sister Zelda, please don’t—” 

Zelda waved her hand again and gagged Sara once more—in no mood for begging. She pressed off the wall and stubbed out her cigarette. Taking measured, predatory steps Zelda approached the trio, letting her anger and power crackle through her and into the air, sparks alighting her fingertips. The intruders cowered, unaccustomed to such blatant displays of power. 

“I am not your sister.” She spoke slowly, tone menacing. Zelda made eye contact with each woman in turn, “you stopped being my sisters of the church when you came to _my_ home, in the middle of the night, with the intention of doing _my_ family harm.” She placed her index finger in the middle of first witch’s, Annabeth, forehead. She smiled wickedly for a moment before sending an electrical jolt through the woman. She whimpered and tried to skirt away, but Zelda was already moving on to the next witch. 

“I am going to ungag you, if you beg it will only make it worse. If you attempt any spells, it will make things _far_ worse. I expect answers. The one who gives them to me…will suffer the least.” She delivered a shock to the next witch, Berta, this one longer and with a higher voltage. “Do we have an understanding?” She arched a brow at the group and when they hesitated, she grasped Sara’s shoulder and delivered a shock through her entire palm, not just a finger. 

The young woman jerked and spasmed, eyes rolling back, and when Zelda released her, she crumpled—a burn mark creeping along her shoulder and up her neck. Zelda kicked her for good measure, unconscious. She could wake Sara up with magic or smelling salts, but that could wait until the others proved uncooperative. She tilted her head at the remaining women expectantly and they nodded hurriedly. 

“Good,” she snapped her fingers and the gags vanished. “Who sent you?” 

Annabeth sneered, “no one.” Zelda sighed and didn’t even bother to close the distance between them, she shocked Annabeth from where she stood a foot away, the electricity arcing through the air brightly. The resulting scream was rather rewarding. 

Zelda turned to Berta then, who had begun to nervously sweat. “Aren’t you worried your family—” 

She scoffed, “they won’t hear a thing. This room is layered in silencing spells. It’d be bad for business if customers came in to plan a funeral and could hear the bone saw going.” A devilish smile lit upon her face, “speaking of which,” the device floated over to her hand. Berta’s eyes widened. “Who sent you?” 

“A group.” Berta blurted out, ignoring how her counterpart hissed at her. 

Rolling her eyes, Zelda flicked the switch of the bone saw so that it hummed to life, “that’s ridiculously vague.” 

“A group within the Church of Night that disagrees with your brother’s philosophy.” Berta quickly elaborated. 

The bone saw quieted. “Ahh, but you see my brother is dead. And so is his philosophy. So, _why are you here_?” Zelda knew, of course, why the trio had come, but the more she could get out of them the better. 

“The mutt.” 

The red that flashed across her vision had Zelda surging forward and gripping Berta’s throat, discharging a powerful jolt straight into her vocal chords. Berta croaked pathetically as she attempted to breathe properly and regain control of her voice, tears streaming down her face. “Take care how you speak of my niece.” She remarked through gritted teeth, before shoving Berta away and turning her attention back to Annabeth. 

“Why come after Sabrina?” The witch spat at her. Zelda eye the glob where it had landed on her slipper. She returned her gaze to the woman, now irritated on top of everything else. “Do you know, how many spells and potions ask for witch parts?” Annabeth’s face lost some of its defiance and color. 

Zelda smirked, “perhaps not. Only the most powerful witches even dare to delve into that type of magic. Though I’m sure it wouldn’t surprise you to learn that those parts are somewhat, difficult, to come by.” She paused and tilted her head assessing the woman. “My supply of fingers is dreadfully low. And why go to the black market…when a new, free supply has recently made itself available?" 

The fear was mounting in Annabeth’s eyes and Zelda didn’t miss how she curled her hands into fists, though she managed to keep a fairly straight face. “You wouldn’t dare. The Dark Lord—” 

A cackle escaped Zelda, unnerving the women even more—which had been her intention. “The Dark Lord rewards those who fight for what is theirs and who take from those who threaten it. I’m sure He would be delighted to hear of how I dealt with intruders in my home.” 

Berta had finally regained herself, “the group believes that the mu—the girl,” she quickly corrected herself when Zelda’s eyes flashed. “The girl is a threat to our kind. She lives in both worlds, what if she experiences magic for the first time in front of mortals? Surely you see the danger she presents.” 

“The only danger I see is three mediocre witches with very poor senses of self-preservation breaking into my home. How many of you are there?” 

Annabeth cut in before Berta could respond, “Berta, silence! Don’t tell her anymore.” 

Zelda chuckled, “oh, by all means, Berta, listen to your friend.” She turned the bone saw on once more and collected Annabeth’s left pinkie finger for her dwindling supplies. Why use magic when this had a far more gruesome effect on her captives. She muted the scream—where it had been rewarding before it was only annoying now. Berta watched in horror as the blood spurted onto the floor, the hem of Zelda’s nightgown and even Berta’s shirt. Annabeth paled and almost passed out when Zelda plopped the finger into a nearby specimen jar. 

“Still feel like keeping quiet, Berta?” 

“There’s five of us total, like the points of a pentagram.” Zelda rolled her eyes, surely she hadn’t been as pious and ridiculous as these idiots. 

“Why did only three of you come?” Really, did they think she’d gone soft when she started taking care of a child? 

Berta hesitated, “we, we, uh—” Zelda sighed and took Annabeth’s other pinkie, waving her hand to wake the woman up when she fell unconscious. “We didn’t think all five needed to come. That three of us would be sufficient to….” The witch gulped and trailed off. 

“To kill a toddler.” Zelda finished coldly, dropping Annabeth’s other finger into the jar. Berta nodded, looking rather ill. “If you vomit in my morgue you will deeply regret it.” She threatened, upon seeing Berta’s expression. The woman swallowed hard and Zelda sneered in distaste, though it was much preferred to cleaning it up. “Who are the others?” 

“I—” And for the first time Berta shook her head, refusing to continue. 

“I’m not going to kill them…no, that doesn’t send the right kind of message.” Zelda stared off for a moment before coming back to herself. “Besides, I don’t condone witches killing other witches—no matter how much they may deserve it.” Her eyes flickered over the trio. Berta eyed her doubtfully, glancing at her companions; one with burn marks radiating up her neck and the other attempting to cradle her mutilated hands. 

“Berta,” Zelda slipped a finger under the woman’s chin, Zelda observed with approval that she flinched at the contact. “I was truthful, was I not, when I said the person who gave me answers would suffer the least? Why would I be dishonest now?” She chucked the witch lightly under the chin, sending a light shock through her—a reminder of what could come. 

The woman only looked at her in horror, but once more remained silent. Zelda arched a brow. “Are we suddenly so noble? Is it because you think I’ll just keep punishing Annabeth? Think again.” She took a pinkie from Berta this time. “Who are the others?” 

This time Annabeth spoke, a hoarse croak, “Mary and Judith.” Her face was twisted in pain. 

Zelda smiled, “now that wasn’t so difficult, was it?” She then bent over the still unconscious Sara and cut off her left pinkie as well. 

“What!? What are you doing? We told you what you wanted!” Annabeth exclaimed, swaying where she knelt. 

“Yes, you did. But you still broke into my home. You still intended to kill my niece. I have to make sure that you all remember this lesson forever. That Sabrina Spellman, **is. off. limits.** And anyone who even thinks of attempting to hurt her will look at each of you and be reminded of how merciful I was; how I let you keep your lives, how I didn’t curse each of your families. And of how the next ones to try will beg to be left in so many pieces in front of the church by the time I am done with them.” She paused and placed Sara’s finger with the others in the jar. “And I really did need to replenish my supply.” She added, offhandedly, before turning her attention back to them. “Now where can I find Mary and Judith? I know they are waiting for your return somewhere.” 

Berta whimpered, “the clearing in the woods next to the academy.” 

Zelda stood, transformed her slippers into boots and headed for the staircase. 

“Wait! Where are you going?” 

Honestly, the stupidity of these witches, Zelda sighed, she should just kill them and relieve the coven of their burden. “To find your accomplices. And should they not be where you say, well, you’ll still be here for me to deal with when I return.” She smirked at their dread filled expressions and with a snap restored their gags once more before teleporting away. 

She found and overwhelmed the two women easily, this disappointed her. Even if all five had come to the house at once Zelda wouldn’t have even broken a sweat. Well, if nothing else this just reassured her that the more powerful members of the coven either didn’t care about Sabrina anymore, or were too smart to make a move. 

No matter which, she thought, reappearing in the morgue a little while later. As long as they didn’t act on their feelings she didn’t care. Zelda dropped the two fingers into the specimen jar with the others and turned to face the trio. 

All were awake now, though rather pale and sweaty. Zelda flicked her wrist and their wounds were sterilized and bound; no need for one of them to die stupidly from infection. “I trust that you’ve all learned your lesson?” They all nodded earnestly, huddling together as she closed in. Zelda eyed them narrowly, “pray that you mean it. For if you ever even consider hurting my niece or anyone else in my family again, you will wish for death.” The witches all swallowed hard, faces grave. Zelda waved her hand and the three were teleported several hundred yards past the property boundaries—still bound, but they’d work themselves loose eventually. 

Rubbing the back of her neck, Zelda glanced at the clock. Damn them, it was already time for breakfast. It was going to be a long day. Perhaps she could discreetly ask Hilda to brew her some of that special tea to stave off sleep. 

Grabbing her jar of newly collected fingers, Zelda traipsed tiredly upstairs. She hoped to store the jar in the ingredients cabinet in the kitchen before hurrying upstairs to change out of her stained clothing without encountering anyone. Of course, luck was not on her side, even Ambrose was already up and in the kitchen. 

“Auntie Zee! What were you doing in the morgue so early?” He called out, half curious, half teasing, seeing her appear through the door under the steps. His smile slipped away as he noticed the bloody contents of the jar and the smears of blood on her clothes and person. 

Hilda, who was facing the stove making breakfast, piped in. “Is that where you were Zelda? I woke up to get some tea last night and you were gone.” Her sister turned to face her, spatula dropping from her hand as she took in the same details of her appearance as Ambrose. Hilda awkwardly cleared her throat, “early morning autopsy?” She suggested hopefully, stooping to pick up the spatula, knowing full well that wasn’t the case. 

“I was dealing with intruders.” Zelda informed them matter of factly, setting the jar on the counter and going to wash her hands. No reason to slink upstairs to hide what she’d done now, not that she was embarrassed or ashamed, Zelda had just hoped to hide the fact that there’d been intruders at all—no need to worry the others. 

Hilda’s eyes were as large as saucers when they fixated on the jar and realized what was inside. “Zelda, what is—” 

“An insurance policy.” 

Placing a hand over her heart, Hilda looked at her stunned. “Dear Satan, what did you do?” 

Zelda rolled her eyes and dried her hands. “Made sure no one else would ever attempt to break in here again.” She stated primly, purposely leaving out the reason the witches had come in the first place. “Now, it’s been a long night, I’m going to wash up and then lie down for an hour before our first client. Ambrose, I’ve made a bit of a mess in the morgue, clean it up, will you?” 

He looked at her with a mixture of awe and fear, “of course, Auntie.” He scurried away, glancing at her over his shoulder before heading down to the basement. 

“Hilda, would you mind preparing these for drying? I’ll put them in the shed myself, but—” 

“Of course. I’ll handle it.” Hilda interrupted, watching her cautiously, as if coming to a realization about her older sister. 

Zelda nodded her thanks, bent to tickle Sabrina who’d been reaching for her from her high chair chanting, “Zee, Zee, Zee,” before kissing the girl on the head and going upstairs. It had been a long night—though Zelda had a feeling it had been quite a productive one. 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

That weekend, Zelda brought Sabrina to Black Mass. She normally left her niece at home with Ambrose, it really was so much easier, but she wanted to drive the message she’d sent in a little further. 

So, she’d walked into the church with Sabrina perched boldly on her hip and made her rounds of greeting everyone as normal. And when she noticed the five would be killers huddled in the corner, she couldn’t help but make her way over to them. 

Zelda greeted them politely, a dry “sisters,” passing her lips as she nodded in their direction. She was pleased at how they all shrank away when she neared and how they didn’t make eye contact when they returned her hello. Other coven members were watching her as well. Word had spread faster than she’d expected, especially since she’d thought the women would want to keep their misdeeds and failure quiet. Though, to be fair, their missing fingers and other scars were difficult to explain away. 

As Zelda settled into the pew next to Hilda, pulling out a book for Sabrina to occupy herself with, Zelda noticed that half the coven was watching her with the same mix of awe and fear Ambrose had the other morning. Zelda dipped her head under the pretext of talking to Sabrina to hide her smug smile. 

The other half, well, they were pointedly ignoring the Spellman family, and this pleased her just as much. It meant that the name Zelda Spellman had reacquired its former reputation—if not a better one. As mass started, Faustus made eye contact with her far more than necessary or usual and she couldn’t help but arch a brow in response. He hid a smile poorly and continued to read from the unholy bible. 

Zelda smirked, so the high priest knew of recent events and clearly wasn’t going to say anything about it. Good, her actions, over the intruders, being condoned by the church meant that her girl was safe for the time being. 

Exhaling quietly in relief, Zelda slipped an arm around Sabrina—perhaps, perhaps everything would be alright after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want Zelda's fears to be completely unfounded, she's a smart cookie and I don't see her worrying unnecessarily about many things. That and I feel like that Satanists in the show wouldn't be above going after a baby. We're getting close to the show content, I think one more childhood chapter and we'll be there. Thanks for sticking with me.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***WARNING*** there is self-harm in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I’ve seen in the comments that you all don’t mind long chapters. I hope it’s true, because this one is a beast! I just had so many ideas I wanted to get in that it just kept going. Enjoy!  
> One part does jump to other POVs, just briefly, I couldn’t help but write one part and it required the change.

After the ‘incident’ as Hilda had come to call it, they lived in a relative calm. Well, perhaps calm was a stretch. They were Satanists taking care of an increasingly restless housebound warlock and a growing half-witch—but there had been no further attempts on any Spellman life, so Zelda marked that down as calm and successful.

Then, when she was three, Sabrina fell ill. Horribly so. She sounded more like a dog than Vinegar Tom when she coughed, and her fever had spiked. 

When even Hilda’s remedies failed to cure their niece, they’d rushed Sabrina to the Infernal Infirmary at the academy. Yes, they could have taken her to the witch’s hospital over in Riverdale, but the academy was so much closer, and the fever wasn’t breaking no matter what they tried. 

Faustus greeted them at the door and ushered them inside, escorting them to the clinic. Zelda hardly noticed his presence, Sabrina was hot against her and another one of those dreadful coughs interrupted the high-pitched sound she now made when breathing. 

When they reached the clinic Zelda gently laid down a whimpering Sabrina on the exam table, crossing and uncrossing her arms, agitatedly spinning her rings as they waited for the healer to finish her examination. 

The healer turned to them, a hopeless look on her face. “Sisters Zelda and Hilda, there is nothing I can do for her. This is a mortal illness that I’ve never seen.” 

Zelda’s vision narrowed, blackness surging into sight and the world spun. The ringing in her ears blocked out the rest of the healer’s words and Zelda couldn’t regain control enough to focus. There was nothing the healer could do? She’d only had her girl for three years, she couldn’t lose her. Zelda’s mind was already concocting and discarding potential deals with the Dark Lord when a solid, comforting weight rested on her back. 

She blinked, Faustus had placed a reassuring hand on her back, anchoring her during her mental tailspin. Zelda couldn’t help but lean a little further into the pressure his hand provided, needing to ground herself. The healer and Hilda were looking at her expectantly. 

But she didn’t know what to say, she hadn’t been able to focus on the healer’s words and now they were waiting for an answer about something. It was now getting harder to breathe, and the world spun a bit quicker around her. 

As if sensing that she was moments away from completely hyperventilating, Faustus leaned in and murmured. “Zelda, just because we cannot cure Sabrina doesn’t mean that a mortal doctor cannot. A mortal solution to a mortal problem, yes?” The corner of his mouth lifted just a bit, trying to comfort her. And it was such a simple and obvious solution that she scolded herself for not thinking of it herself. 

“Yes, of course.” She responded, finally snapping back to herself, “we’ll take her to a mortal doctor.” Exhaling slowly, Zelda scooped up her feverish girl once more, Sabrina whimpered and buried her face into Zelda’s neck and Zelda had never felt more useless. “Thank you,” she nodded at the healer and Faustus before turning to follow Hilda out the door to find the nearest mortal doctor. It was only then, as she walked away, that Faustus’ hand dropped from her back. 

Hours later, the sisters arrived home from the doctor’s office. Zelda’s palms were tender, she’d clenched her hands too tightly throughout the visit to keep herself from hexing the bald, little man who called himself a doctor. 

Steam. That had been the doctor’s advice. That and a fever reducer. Zelda banged furiously around the kitchen mixing the medicine into something Sabrina would drink while Hilda changed Sabrina into her pajamas. Steam, she scoffed, surely that wasn’t enough. 

But they didn’t have much of an option. Sabrina’s barking cough preceded her arrival in the kitchen. Zelda handed Hilda the medicine and made her way upstairs to prepare the bathroom. 

~~~~~~~~ 

It was nearly three in the morning when Hilda knocked tentatively on the bathroom door. Zelda had been up for the past three nights caring for Sabrina and this was the fourth, though it was the first spent in the bathroom at the mortal doctor’s instructions. 

Hilda cracked the door open and was met with a wall of steam, “Zelda?” 

She made no attempt to pick herself up off the floor where she’d eventually slumped against the bathtub in exhaustion. Her hand rubbing soothingly up and down their niece’s back where she was sprawled on Zelda’s chest. 

“How are things going?” Hilda asked, coming closer and closing the door behind her to keep the steam in. 

Zelda shifted slightly, “her breathing isn’t as labored. Though I can’t tell if her fever is down, the steam makes it difficult.” 

Hilda nodded and placed a hand on Sabrina’s forehead. “It seems lower. The heat coming off her is different, not the same as the one caused by fever.” Zelda exhaled in relief, she’d never been so glad for Hilda’s expertise in illnesses and healing until now. 

Though Sabrina appeared to be getting better, Zelda couldn’t help but pose the question that had been burning inside her since the girl fell sick. “What if they cursed her?” 

“What?! Who would curse a baby?” Hilda looked at her baffled, likely thinking this line of questioning was due to exhaustion, and stood back up, peering into the tub critically. 

Zelda threw up a hand in the air, “anyone.” She didn’t want to admit that it might be the same sect that came for Sabrina the year before. That they might have tried a new tactic to kill Sabrina now that they knew what Zelda was willing to do to protect her niece. 

“Zelds, the doctor said—” 

“I know what he said.” She snapped quietly, cradling Sabrina a little closer to her. The mortal had diagnosed Sabrina with something called the croup. Not uncommon among young children he had assured them—and entirely treatable. But what, what if this was really retaliation for how she’d handled the intruders the year before? Zelda knew they’d never try a direct attack again, but what if they’d tried another way? One far less obvious. Hilda’s voice broke through her thoughts. 

“Want me to take her for a bit?” She offered, holding out her hands to take the little girl. 

Zelda sighed, “no. She’s finally asleep, I don’t want to risk waking her up.” She pressed her cheek against the top of Sabrina’s head where it rested on her shoulder. 

Hilda pursed her lips, as she refreshed the spell on the tub so that the water stayed hot and more steam rose into the air. “Zelda, you need rest too.” 

Shaking her head, “I’m fine,” Zelda assured her sister, settling more comfortably against the porcelain tub. 

“Just send Tom if you need anything then. I’ll be in bed.” Hilda informed her, tilting her head to look at her. 

Zelda nodded, a small smile on her face. Hilda returned the sentiment and as she left lightly brushed her fingers against her sister’s head in reassurance. 

~~~~~~~~ 

Hilda was tiredly moving around the kitchen, brewing some pep-up tea for herself and Zelda, they had a busy day ahead with both pregnant and dead clients. She had just taken the kettle off the stove when she heard a knock on the door. Frowning, Hilda went to answer it—it was far too early for business, so she had no idea who could possibly be there. 

“Father Blackwood?” She stated, perplexed that the high priest was at their front door. 

“Morning, Sister Hilda. I wanted to come and check on your niece after that troubling visit yesterday. May I?” And he was already stepping forward and into the house. 

Somewhat put out, Hilda moved aside to allow him inside. “So nice of you to stop by, it really wasn’t necessary, a phone call would have sufficed.” Hilda remarked, raising a brow at the warlock, letting him know she was onto whatever he had planned. 

Blackwood had shed his coat and hung it on a peg by the door. “I take the health of my coven very seriously.” He replied smoothly, not taking the bait Hilda had provided. 

“Sabrina is upstairs with Zelda, I will see if I can get an update for you.” She spun and headed up to the bathroom where she’d last seen the two witches in question. She needed to change and feed Sabrina anyway. 

Hilda couldn’t help but smile softly when she cracked the bathroom door open. The steam was gone, Zelda must’ve let the spell run its course. Or, from the looks of it, had fallen asleep and been unable to refresh it. Zelda, at some point, had lain down, still cradling Sabrina to her. 

A presence behind her made Hilda jump and clutch at her chest, Blackwood had followed her up the stairs and was standing in the doorway behind her. “Father Blackwood, I thought you were going to wait—” 

“I wanted to see how Zelda was doing as well.” He murmured, so as to not disturb anyone. Though he spoke to Hilda, his gaze remained on Zelda where she slept holding their niece—his expression something Hilda had never seen before. 

Before she could chastise the priest, however, Sabrina stirred and looked up at her aunt. “Hilly,” she smiled tiredly and reached for her. 

“Good morning, my love.” Hilda smiled, picking the girl up from Zelda’s limp arms. “Oh, you sound much better, praise Satan.” She smoothed back Sabrina’s hair and then turned to her still sleeping sister. “Zelds,” she nudged her with her foot. “Time to get up, the high priest—” 

Blackwood put a restraining hand on Hilda’s shoulder. “No need to wake her. I’m sure she needs her sleep. I can take her to bed, just point the way.” 

Hilda’s eyes narrowed, and she pressed her lips together. She didn’t say a word, just glared at the man. 

“I will do nothing untoward, I swear on Satan’s claw.” He made the corresponding hand gesture and placed the other hand over his heart. 

Ignoring him, Hilda turned back to Zelda. “Zelda,” she tried again, shaking her sister’s shoulder. Zelda merely mumbled and rolled away from Hilda’s prodding. “Zelda!” Hilda hissed, contemplating the consequences of dumping cold water on her. 

“Aunt Hilly, I hungry.” Sabrina stated, rubbing her belly. 

“You are? That’s so wonderful, you must be feeling better. Zelda you hear that? Sabrina is feeling better!” She nearly shouted, now growing concerned that Zelda was so deeply asleep—though it had been several days since she’d really slept. 

“Sister Hilda, go feed your niece. I will assist Zelda and be right down.” His voice took on the authoritative tone of the high priest. Hilda frowned, but exited the bathroom, throwing pointed looks at him over her shoulder. 

Blackwood smiled blandly and nodded his head. Once Hilda was gone, he turned his attention back to the witch in front of him. His smile turned affectionate as he crouched next to Zelda. He’d never seen her like this before, face free of makeup, hair in wild curls—likely from the steam, she was absolutely stunning. 

“Zelda,” he murmured, softly running his hand up and down her arm. And, unlike with Hilda’s attempts, Zelda rolled towards him and took his hand. Chuckling, Faustus extracted his hand from her grip and scooped her up into his arms, mindful of the bathroom fixtures as he stood. The smooth silk of her nightgown and robe flooded his mind with inappropriate images—though he quickly banished them to the best of his ability; he’d promised nothing untoward. 

As he moved out of the bathroom Zelda nestled further into his chest, one hand now gripping one of his suspenders. He was sure that the pounding of his heart would wake her as he maneuvered to the bedroom at the end of the hall. But she slept on. Faustus had never seen her this calm, this soft, and found himself wanting to see more of this version of Zelda in the future. 

Stepping into the room at last, he made straight for the far bed. Though there were two in the room, he knew immediately which was Zelda’s. The dark tones, elegant, decorative pillows and lack of a colorful quilt making the choice easy. With a whispered spell the pillows flew into a neat pile next to the bed and the comforter slid back. Gently, he lowered Zelda onto the bed and was pulling the blanket back up when she opened her eyes. 

“Faustus?” She rasped, confused and not fully awake. 

He hummed and tucked the blanket around her shoulders. “It’s alright, sleep.” She nodded and settled into the bed. He thought she’d gone back to sleep when she suddenly shot upright. 

“Sabrina!” 

“Your sister has her. She’s in the kitchen, eating breakfast and breathing much better thanks to your care.” Placated and still exhausted, Zelda allowed him to coax her into lying down once more. “Rest now, Zelda.” He whispered. 

On the cusp of sleep and blinking heavily, she still argued with him. “But I have so much to do…” 

Faustus smiled at her dedication, “I will set an alarm spell to go off in two hours. How’s that?” 

She smiled softly at him, “that would be lovely, thank you.” And with that she drifted off. He waited a moment, ensuring that she was actually asleep, then tucked a wild curl behind her ear and leaned in to press a tender kiss to her temple. 

He then made his way downstairs where he was confronted by an irate Hilda. 

“She’s been through enough and has too much on her plate without you coming in and messing with things.” She delivered coldly, balancing Sabrina on one hip. 

“I have no wish to ‘mess’ with things. I simply want—” 

“I know what you want.” Hilda cut in, causing Blackwood to lift a brow in surprise—she normally wasn’t this bold. 

He raised a hand, intending to pacify, “I can assure you that my intentions go beyond—” 

“I also know Edward kept you away before.” Hilda spoke over him, likely wanting to get everything out before she lost her nerve. “And my brother would have had his reasons. So, I warn you now, I’ll let Zelda do as she chooses—she’s a grown witch. But you hurt her, and you’ll learn that Zelda isn’t the only Spellman you shouldn’t cross.” 

Faustus nodded in acknowledgement, “so noted.” And he couldn’t help how the corner of his mouth tugged up slightly in approval of this woman’s protection of her sister. He descended the final steps and reached for his coat. “I’ve intruded long enough. I am happy to see that your niece is well. Damned day, Sister Hilda.” 

“Damned day, Father.” 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

A few hours later, Zelda made her way down the stairs, pinning her hair back into a loose bun for a day in the morgue and with clients. She found Sabrina in her high chair, eating a snack and approached the smiling girl. 

“Morning, sweetheart.” She greeted, stooping to kiss Sabrina’s head to gauge her temperature and listen to her breathing. Both were much improved. Zelda then turned to Hilda, “when did you teleport me to bed?” She questioned, pouring herself some tea and grabbing some food. 

Hilda turned from where she was prepping turnips for sale at her upcoming farmer’s market, “you don’t remember how you got to bed?” Hilda had paused around the corner at the end of the hall and watched as Blackwood had carried Zelda to their bedroom with surprising tenderness. It was only after she witnessed this that she felt comfortable making her way back to the kitchen. But one moment of kindness didn’t mean she trusted the man—hence her threatening him as he left. 

“Obviously not or I wouldn’t be asking.” Zelda quipped, taking a sip of tea. 

“I came to get Sabrina to see if she was hungry and you were both asleep on the bathroom floor. Sabrina was better, and you needed the rest.” Hilda paused, “you really don’t remember?” 

Zelda just shook her head, trying to clear it, “why would I? You teleported me.” Though she’d meant it as a statement, it came out as more of a question. She had the vague impression of being carried, being tucked into bed, feeling safe….but that made no sense, so she dismissed the idea as a dream. Quickly consuming the rest of her food, Zelda stood. “I’ll be in the morgue. Ring down when Patricia gets here for her 13 month checkup.” 

Hilda eyed her for a moment, as if wanting to go back to the previous topic of conversation, but let it drop. “She’s about to pop.” 

“Don’t I know it. I told her I would come to her, but the witch refuses to see the reality of her situation.” 

Hilda hummed, “witches, so stubborn.” Zelda just furrowed her brow at Hilda’s odd behavior, kissed Sabrina on the head and made her way to the basement. 

The day passed in a blur of work and when the telephone rang right before dinner Zelda was sorely tempted to let it go to voicemail. But that wasn’t good business and it wasn’t as if people could die on her schedule. 

Sighing, Zelda answered the phone. “Spellman Mortuary, this is Zelda.” 

“Hello Zelda, I was calling to check on little Sabrina.” 

She smiled widely at the sound of the smooth voice on the other line, knowing he had an ulterior motive and finding that she didn’t mind. “She’s doing much better, thank you for calling Faustus.” She replied, playing with the phone cord. 

“And how are you?” 

“I’m fine, of course. I wasn’t the one who was ill.” She shook her head. 

“No,” he paused, “but you were quite upset when you came to the infirmary the other day.” 

Her smile slipped away. “Well, naturally. My niece was quite sick and the healer had told us there was nothing she could do.” She remarked, a little defensively, disliking that he, or anyone for that matter, had seen her in a moment of weakness. 

Hearing her defensive tone, Blackwood laughed softly. “I only wanted to see how you were. **And** to let you know, that should you need someone to talk to…my door is always open.” 

Zelda deflated a little more at his statement, knowing that he meant for this offer to come from the high priest to a parishioner. “Of course, Father, thank you for the support of the church.” Her voice had reverted back to its clipped and formal tone. 

“Zelda,” his voice lowered an octave and it had her stomach swooping despite herself. “I meant you can come to me as a friend. Not just as a high priest.” 

“Is that what we are? _Friends?_ ” 

She could practically hear him smiling over the phone. “I’d like to think so, and, in time, perhaps more.” Before she could respond, she heard a clamor in the background on his end. “For Satan’s sake,” he cursed. “I must go, goodbye Zelda.” Another crash sounded and shouting started in the distance before the line went dead. 

Zelda grinned and moved to hang up the phone as well, only to find that she’d quite entangled herself in the cord over the course of the conversation. Scoffing at her school girl antics, she quickly untangled herself and went to join the others in the kitchen—a small smile tugging at her lips. 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

As time passed and Sabrina neared four years old Zelda knew she should start teaching her about the ways of the Path of Night. She’d had the values and lessons of the church drilled into her at a young age, Zelda should have been doing the same with her niece. 

But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Couldn’t imbue faith in the Dark Lord and the Church of Night into this child—not when both had stolen so much from them. It felt wrong, and though Zelda knew it would be much easier later on if she converted Sabrina as a child, she refused. Even Faustus visiting with somewhat regularity couldn’t force her to. 

Not that this meant she neglected teaching Sabrina about their realm, their other traditions, about magic. It just meant that instead of teaching Sabrina about religion, Zelda taught her niece Latin and spells, the basics of potions and told her tales of witch hunters, hangings and burning at the stake. 

To her immense amusement, Hilda overheard one of these grisly bedtime stories one night and came bursting into Sabrina’s room, flustered. “Dear Satan, what are you telling her?!” 

Zelda had looked up coolly from the book while Sabrina hushed her younger aunt from where she was tucked into Zelda’s side. “Quiet Auntie Hilda, it just got to the good part.” Their niece had grinned widely and then turned her rapt attention back to Zelda. 

“Beelzebub help me. We have another horror fan in our midst.” Hilda grumbled, eyeing Zelda but exiting the room nonetheless. 

A love of horror and all things ghastly wasn’t the only thing Zelda passed along to her niece. She also taught the sweet girl how to sing, to read music—the two of them often singing in her workroom while Zelda brewed potions for clients, Sabrina doing small jobs to help at her own miniature table in the corner. 

Hilda certainly played a large role in raising Sabrina as well. She was the domestic one, the coddling one. Sabrina went to Hilda for snacks and coziness, for fairytales, baking and cartoons movies on a rainy day. But it was Zelda that Sabrina came to for tales of witches, warlocks and demons—anything connected to the witching realm. It was Zelda that Sabrina came to first, flushed with pride, after her first display of magic. It was Zelda that Sabrina sought out when she was scared or hurt, expecting her aunt to turn that fiery personality onto whatever had caused the damage and make everything better. 

While they both raised her, in Zelda’s mind, Sabrina was her child. 

Faustus continued to visit during that time; bringing sweets and trinkets for Sabrina and rare potion ingredients or books for Zelda—knowing she wasn’t one for flowers. Hilda had frowned, disliking the man, claiming he was sniffing after Zelda now that Edward wasn’t around to keep him away anymore. 

Zelda waved away her sister’s concern, stating she had no interest in a relationship. Though the truth of it was, she had no interest in a relationship with a high priest. Not because she didn’t find the man alluring, but because having the highest-ranking religious figure in their church further ingrained in her life was not something she needed. 

She had a difficult enough time keeping up pretenses during Black Mass sometimes. Having to feign her piety constantly outside of the church would have been too much on top of everything else she was juggling. So, no, a relationship was certainly not what she was after. 

But Faustus wasn’t exactly asking for a relationship, he was seeking a more carnal affiliation. And this, this Zelda told herself was acceptable, was safe, to have…to want. Besides, his attention wasn’t unwelcome, and neither were the surprisingly soft touches coupled with his burning stares. 

It all made her feel so normal—the lust and passion. As if at least one aspect of her life was returning to how it was before Edward died and she’d taken on so much. For the first time in a while, Zelda felt as though she was in control of part of her life, felt confident in every move she made. 

Really, what were a few heated kisses? What harm could come from those kisses escalating to a quick fuck in the greenhouse one afternoon? Or in his office at the academy while it was term holiday? Or…well, it was becoming a habit to meet Faustus somewhere and lose herself for an hour or two. 

And what mother, guardian, she sharply corrected herself, didn’t need to escape every now and then? 

It wasn’t a problem until Sabrina was almost five. 

It wasn’t a problem until Faustus was able to boldly let himself into the house and catch her unawares. She and Sabrina were spending another afternoon in her workroom, singing some song from the movie Sabrina was currently obsessed with. Zelda being so absorbed in the spell she was tinkering with and making sure that she continued to sing that it wasn’t until Sabrina noticed the high priest in the doorway and greeted him politely that Zelda realized the depth of her folly. 

The one pitfall of her protection spells around the house was that they were tied to her—emotionally. Meaning that only those she was emotionally close to and trusted were able to enter the property, whether by teleporting or walking, without the spell alerting her to the person’s presence. Until recently only Hilda and a select few friends from the academy were able to accomplish this. 

Faustus being able to enter without so much as a warning meant that he had worked his way far deeper into her life than she’d realized. It was a problem, dangerous. But she didn’t have time to process the implications of it all, he was already enticing Sabrina to leave the room—stating Hilda was pulling up the biggest carrot he had ever seen in the garden. Already pushing off the door frame where he’d been leaning and stealing a kiss from her the moment Sabrina was out of sight. 

“I haven’t heard you sing in a long time, Zels.” He murmured, smiling softly at her. “I almost forgot what an enchanting voice you possess.” His lips moved to her neck and she was so stunned that her hands reacted automatically and came up to rest on his hips—her mind still reeling from the fact that he made it past her spells. “Will you not reconsider my offer to take over for the unholy choir at the academy? Or even just rejoining the choir at Black Mass?” His question finally jolted her into action. 

Shaking herself slightly, Zelda pulled back, “Faustus, what are you doing here?” 

He smirked, “I thought that much would be obvious.” Arching a brow, he brought up a hand to play with one of her curls. 

Zelda rolled her eyes and, not so playfully, pushed him away. “Some of us have work to do,” she replied dryly, trying to ignore how he set her blood racing and purposely turned back to the books on the table behind her. 

Faustus huffed and slipped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Come visit me tonight then.” 

“Faustus,” she sighed, keeping her eyes forward. 

“After Sabrina is in bed of course. I want to discuss something with you.” 

She scoffed, “I’m sure you do.” 

He released her then and walked around the table so that she was forced to look at him. “Zels, I do have something to speak to you about. Come to my office tonight?” And when she met his eyes, Zelda found she couldn’t resist. Faustus grinned when she nodded and pecked her on the cheek as he rounded the table once more. “I will leave you to your very important work then.” And with that he was gone. 

A shaky breath escaped her once he was gone. Regardless of what he wanted to discuss tonight, she needed to end things. She’d let it all go too far. Sighing, Zelda forced her attention back to the spell—hoping it would distract her enough to make it through dinner and bedtime. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

She arrived at the academy later than she’d planned. And when she explained to Faustus it was because Sabrina had insisted on three bedtime stories from her, he’d laughed. 

“Couldn’t say no to her, huh?” 

Zelda’s head spun for a moment, though he’d meant to tease, Faustus had no idea the effect his words had on her. But he was taking her hand and leading her to the couch before she could dwell too long on the comment. 

He sat, angling himself towards her, hands encompassing her own. “Zels, I, I want to talk about formally courting you.” He’d jumped right in, no foreplay and Zelda found herself wishing that he’d warmed her up a bit, because now the entire room and not just her head was spinning. 

She barely heard him as he explained himself, why it made sense for them to make this formal. And he was drifting dangerously close to talking about feelings and until this point this had been a topic they’d staunchly avoided. 

So, this was the harm that could come from their dalliances. Despite herself, she’d allowed this man to become ingrained in her life. She couldn’t let him in any further; scared of what might happen if the high priest became a permanent fixture in Spellman house. 

“No, Faustus.” She murmured, going to pull her hands away, but he caught them, trapping them between his. When she met his eyes, the hurt she saw there was something she’d never expected to see. Surely, he didn’t truly care for her. She was just the forbidden fruit that was now finally attainable after almost a century of waiting. She was just the most convenient witch to court, to take on the role of Lady Blackwood that he was obligated to fill as high priest. 

Zelda was certain that he would have grown bored with her soon enough and moved on to the nearest willing witch or warlock in the coven. But the shadow of pain had her spewing excuses, though she refused to acknowledge why she felt compelled to try and alleviate the hurt she’d caused. She was too busy for anything formal or official. Sabrina came first, her work as a midwife, at the mortuary, Ambrose, even Hilda. But Faustus’ expression darkened as she spoke. 

“I know you have many responsibilities, Zelda. I am not unfamiliar with the burden of many duties. The Dark Lord is demanding, but He does not require us to be alone in these demands.” 

Oh, she didn’t want to be alone anymore, didn’t want to shoulder all these responsibilities alone. And here was Faustus, a powerful warlock, a good man, offering to help her with it all. Satan she was tempted. But it was too dangerous, she couldn’t allow Faustus closer—he’d find out that she was a fraud for sure if they established a formal relationship. And then his role in the church would demand that he report her to the coven, turn her over to the Dark Lord. 

Zelda knew she wouldn’t be able to withstand such as betrayal, didn’t want to force that kind of position on Faustus. When it had been just sex, she’d felt in control—how had she realized that she’d never had control? That he’d been drawing her in, little by little, getting her to drop her carefully constructed walls. But those walls were necessary, they were what kept her family safe. So, she shook her head and retreated from the couch, this time Faustus let her hands slide from his grip. 

“I can’t.” She managed in a mostly steady voice, “goodbye, Faustus.” Zelda all but ran from the room, teleporting the moment she was out of sight. She stumbled upon arriving home—surprising Hilda where she was brewing some concoction in the kitchen. 

Zelda cursed herself, and angrily wiped away the traitorous tear that had slipped down her cheek. She’d been shooting for the bedroom, but her emotions must have thrown off her aim. 

“Zelda? What?” Hilda began, taking a step towards her clearly distraught sister. 

“Nothing.” She snapped, smoothing her hair and spinning on a heel to leave the room. 

Hilda’s quiet voice caught her at the doorway. “You’re allowed to want, Zelds. To love.” 

She squeezed her eyes shut, her nerves far too frayed to deal with anything from Hilda. Especially her on-point ability to read her when she was upset. “What?” Zelda ground out, because who had said anything of love? There certainly wasn’t love between herself and Faustus…no, romantic love was for mortals. 

“Nothing.” Hilda parroted, returning to her pot, hunching her shoulders as if expecting the death blow at any moment. 

Zelda sighed, suddenly drained. While killing and burying Hilda would help relieve some of the stress, she really didn’t want to watch over whatever Hilda was brewing until her sister revived. “That’s what I thought,” she bit out instead and continued her exit out of the room. 

Why Hilda was suddenly encouraging a relationship she had previously disapproved of was beyond Zelda. Not that she wanted to put much thought into it. She climbed the stairs and carefully cracked Sabrina’s bedroom door open—needing to actually see the reason she was doing all of this. The soft breathes coming from the bed and seeing Sabrina hug the stuffed spider Ambrose had given her last year helped assuage the growing pit inside her. 

Sighing, Zelda made her way up the final steps to her and Hilda’s bedroom. With any luck her sister would be busy for the next hour with her potion, leaving Zelda plenty of time to drink herself into a dreamless sleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

To avoid any potentially awkward encounters, Zelda brought Sabrina with her to the next coven meeting. She usually left her niece at home, knowing she’d been neglecting to instill Sabrina with the same awe in Satan as the other children likely had at this point. 

But the possibility of Sabrina revealing that she knew nothing about the Path of Night and the Church of Night was slim, and Zelda really needed the shield in case Faustus tried to approach her. So, Sabrina played with the other children while the adults discussed matters for the upcoming winter solstice. 

When the meeting adjourned, Sabrina came rushing up to her and buried her face in Zelda’s skirt, arms wrapping tightly around her legs. Though alarmed by this greeting, Zelda was also grateful for the excuse to leave immediately—Faustus had been making his way over. 

Zelda nodded politely at the other witches, placed a hand on Sabrina’s head and teleported them back to the house. Once there, she gently disengaged from the girl’s grip and knelt so that they were on eye level. 

“What’s the matter?” Sabrina just sniffled and shook her head. Zelda arched a brow, “in this house we use our words, Sabrina.” She ignored the hypocrisy of her statement—knowing full well she repressed her own emotions and words far too often. When her niece remained silent, she added, “well, you can either tell me what’s wrong. Or you can stop this crying.” 

Sabrina brought her eyes up to look at her aunt. “They called me names,” she admitted in a whisper. 

“And what names were those?” Zelda asked calmly, though her throat tightened in anger, all thoughts of Faustus vanished. 

“Mutt, half-breed, and something like mongel?” Sabrina murmured, twisting the hem of her shirt and not looking at Zelda again. 

“Mongrel, dear.” She corrected automatically, “and always keep eye contact when speaking.” She placed a finger under Sabrina’s chin and tipped it up gently. Sabrina nodded and then surged forward to hug Zelda once more, thin arms snaking around her neck. 

Zelda returned the embrace and carefully stood, lifting Sabrina as she did—the girl’s legs wrapping around her waist automatically. Her niece really was much too old for such coddling, and Zelda normally tried to refrain, but Sabrina was quite upset, and she couldn’t refuse her the comfort she so obviously needed. 

As Zelda carried Sabrina to the parlor, her lips tugged into a ghost of a snarl. So, the years had not softened some of the coven members stance towards her niece. And they were now teaching their children the same fear and hate. When she sat on the couch, Sabrina quickly shifted so that she could sit comfortably on her aunt’s lap. Zelda rubbed soothing circles on Sabrina’s back as she nestled closer and rested her head on Zelda’s collarbone. 

The small sniffles had Zelda wanting to hex the children for their cruelty and curse the parents for passing along their hate for her girl. It would be easy enough, if done right they wouldn’t know they’d been cursed for years…until the curse had them fully in its grasp. And she would do it right. 

Pulling back slowly so she could see Sabrina’s face, she wiped the girl’s tears and asked, “what are their names?” 

“Huh?” 

“The children, what are their names?” She repeated softly, but firmly. She could already feel the curse brewing in her veins, practically singing as it pulsed through her, begging to be released—quite the delicious sensation and one she hadn’t felt in some time. It’d been ages since she’d cast a proper curse. 

Hilda came in from the garden just then, sun hat still on, the smile slipping from her face at the sight of Sabrina’s tear stained face. She was hurrying over and sitting on the couch next to them before Sabrina could answer. “What happened love?” 

When Sabrina merely buried her face in Zelda’s neck, Zelda supplied, “some vile children called her names.” Hilda gave her a look, one that stated she was name calling as well at the moment and it wasn’t setting a good example. Zelda simply rolled her eyes. 

“What does it mean?” Sabrina’s voice was muffled against her dress. 

“Ah, we must always speak clearly and firmly.” Zelda scolded lightly, “so people always know that we mean what we say and know what we want. Don’t let other’s voices strip you of your own.” 

Sabrina straightened, “what do those names mean?” She repeated, switching her gaze between her aunts. Zelda exchanged a loaded look with her sister over Sabrina’s head before answering. 

“It means, that you are not a full witch by blood.” She stated, matter of factly. 

Her niece’s brow crinkled, “okay. But why…” 

“Witches…” Zelda paused, not entirely certain on how to proceed. “Witches are not naturally kind beings.” She informed Sabrina, tucking some of her blonde locks behind her ear. “With the exception of your Aunt Hilda.” Sabrina giggled slightly and snuggled closer to Zelda who wrapped her arms around the girl once more. “They dislike what is different or what they do not understand. You, my darling, are both of those things in their eyes.” 

“But why?” Sabrina repeated, scrubbing her eyes, chin trembling. 

Zelda sighed, she’d thought she’d have more time to figure out this particular talk. She glanced at Hilda and her sister grimaced and shrugged, equally at a loss. “Your father, Edward, was a warlock, a powerful one and he was in charge of the church—the high priest.” She began, a hint of pride in her voice. “And your mother—” Zelda took a deep breath, she wouldn’t bias this child against her mother. “Your mother, Diana, was mortal. She didn’t have any powers, didn’t even know of our realm until she met your father.” 

She stopped there, unwilling to go further. After all this time, she still had trouble approving the marriage—even if it had resulted in the wonderful child sitting on her lap. 

When the silence lengthened, “and they fell in love,” Hilda filled the quiet, “got married.” 

Zelda nodded, “but many in our coven, and even surrounding covens, did not approve of the marriage. They thought it put our kind in danger—welcoming a mortal in. You see, we all remember the Salem trials and Greendale hangings a little too well to trust mortals. We live a long time and have even longer memories.” Sabrina nodded solemnly, she knew the stories—they were why she couldn’t tell anyone she was part witch. Taking this as a sign of understanding, Zelda continued. “Certain members of the coven approved even less when you were born. It was a mixing of the realms that had never happened before. So, they call you names because they’re scared, because you are different. Because of your, your…” and Zelda waved her hand, searching for the word. “Duality.” She smiled slightly upon determining a fitting term. 

“Duality?” Sabrina scrunched her brow in confusion. 

“Remember our language lesson? What is duo?” 

“Two.” Sabrina promptly answered. 

Zelda smiled, and bopped her niece on the nose. “Good girl.” Sabrina beamed at the praise and leaned more heavily into Zelda. “It means two. And you are of two realms, mortal and witch. You have a duality.” 

Hilda nodded in approval at the term. “Not everyone is accepting of this duality, though.” Her sister explained further. “But you should embrace it. It is who you are, why try and be anything else?” 

“This will not stop the name calling.” Zelda warned, hating that she couldn’t protect Sabrina from everything. “But, if you do not let it affect you, it takes away the power of the words.” 

“Okay, I think I understand.” Sabrina nodded earnestly, as only a five year old could. “Thank you, aunties!” She exclaimed, pulling them both into tight hugs before leveraging herself off the couch and skipping off, repeating ‘duality’ under her breath. “Hey Ambrose,” she called out, heading to the basement. “Guess what I have!” 

Hilda sighed, “do you think we handled that right?” Her sister brought her gaze back to Zelda’s, unsure. 

Zelda lit a cigarette and took a drag, holding it a moment before releasing the smoke in a slow exhale. “Pray that we did. Satan knows they’ll keep throwing insults at her. And let’s hope that’s all they do.” Her expression must have been dark, because Hilda patted her knee and stood. 

“You can’t hex or curse them.” 

“Hmm?” 

“I know that look, you can’t hex or curse them all. Retaliating won’t improve anything.” Hilda told her, inclining her head knowingly. 

Zelda scoffed, “it’ll improve my mood,” she muttered. But Hilda was right, not that she’d say as much out loud. Though she certainly could curse everyone that hurt her girl, it’d leave her with very few people in her corner at the coven should anything ever occur. And she really couldn’t afford to alienate anyone else. Some members of the coven still hadn’t forgiven her for relieving those five women of a few of their fingers several years ago. 

“Fine, no curses.” She acquiesced, “but make sure we check Sabrina for curses once a week for a little while.” She instructed Hilda, just because she was above cursing children _(barely)_ didn’t mean others were—and she couldn’t rely on her protections spells to stop everything, that was just lazy and dangerous. “It’s a busy day, I’m going to change and go help Ambrose downstairs.” She nodded at her sister and made to leave. 

Hilda’s voice stopped her in the doorway. “You can be kind too.” 

“What?” She asked, only half-listening, she’d been running through a list of things to do before the day was over. 

“You, you told Sabrina that witches aren’t naturally kind…with me as an exception. You can be kind too, at times.” Hilda elaborated cautiously, glancing around the room to survey for potential weapons—just in case Zelda took the statement as an insult and felt the need to demonstrate just how unkind she could be. 

Zelda huffed, “I don’t know what you’re dithering about. We have a busy day, go and start contacting families about arrangements. I’ll help Ambrose until Sister Margaret arrives for her checkup.” 

Hilda smiled and nodded, scurrying off to the office before Zelda could change her mind. 

Zelda watched as Hilda left, playing with her rings. Edward had been the only one to ever call her sweet—he alone taking the time to fight past her hard exterior to see the soft-core underneath. She couldn’t recall the last time someone had called her kind—with the exception of her pregnant clients, but they were hormonal and therefore couldn’t be fully trusted in their perception of her. 

But to have her sister, whom she constantly pushed around and away for fear that if she let her closer it would hurt all the more when she inevitably left, call her kind—well it was unexpected. It also made something warm bloom in her chest and a smile creep onto her lips. 

Scowling at herself, Zelda headed to the basement. Sentimentality had never helped anyone in this family, no need to succumb to it herself now; at least externally. Besides, it would ruin her reputation—not unjustly earned, of being a cold-hearted bitch. And it was far better to be thought of as a cold-hearted bitch, bitches kept people away, made them fear, made them respect—and _that’s_ what she needed. Not warmth or kindness or love—Faustus’ face flitted through her mind and she quickly squashed the thought. 

Yes, cold and heartless, that’s what she needed, had, to be. She repeated this several times to herself as she headed to the morgue to assist Ambrose. 

~~~~~~~~~ 

That night she and Hilda were canning tomatoes from the garden. Normally, Zelda left this type of work to her sister, but the batch had been so large this year that Hilda had needed the help. And the last time Ambrose had ‘helped’ he’d attempted to speed the process up with a spell. The resulting tornado of tomatoes and cans had dented several walls, concussed Vinegar Tom and gotten Ambrose banned from the kitchen for a month. 

They’d been steadily working through the pile of tomatoes for an hour when Hilda broke the silence. “Zelds?” 

Zelda hummed in response. 

“I was thinking, that maybe we could, well really should, after what happened today that is, possibly—” Hilda was rambling, Zelda could have let her go on, talk herself til she was blue in the face. But she wasn’t really in the mood. 

“For the love of Lucifer, Hilda. Just spit it out.” 

“I think we should send Sabrina to mortal primary school instead of homeschooling her.” 

And there it was, all spat out at once and it had Zelda stilling. “What?” How could Hilda be suggesting this? They’d lost Edward because of his over attachment to the mortal realm and now she wanted to willfully immerse Sabrina in it? 

Hilda shifted nervously on her stool, “I think Sabrina should go to mortal primary school.” 

Adopting her aloof tone, Zelda tried to brush the idea away as if it didn’t absolutely terrify her. “All witches are homeschooled. So that they may learn the old ways and the ways of the Church of Night.” Though her tone was collected, her actions betrayed her inner turmoil her canning had turned rather aggressive. 

“Well, it’s not as if you’ve been teaching Sabrina those things so far anyway, Zelda.” 

“Excuse you?” Her tone hardened, matching the dangerous glint in her eye. “I most certainly have been teaching Sabrina the old ways, she—” 

Hilda interrupted, attempting to pacify, “the old ways, yes. Sabrina knows Latin, has learned about spells and potions and witching history. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sit her down with the unholy bible and teach her anything from it. Other than that, there’s a false god and Satan is our true leader.” 

Zelda rolled her shoulders uncomfortably, she hadn’t expected Hilda to notice Sabrina’s lack of knowledge about the Church of Night and its traditions. Though a keen observer of Satanical holidays and a regular attendee at Black Mass, Hilda had never held the same regard for the church as most witches. Zelda had banked on this, hoping that because Hilda wasn’t the most devout that she wouldn’t notice her negligence of Sabrina’s religious education. 

“If we send her to mortal school, we’ll be separating her even further from her peers. Making her stand out even more for her duality.” Zelda argued, purposely not addressing Hilda’s point. 

Hilda pursed her lips, not missing the change. “Well, it’s not like she’ll be missing anything. We’ll still take her to group gatherings, Sabrina will be at all of the same things as her witching peers. And I think it’d be best for her to interact with children that didn’t hold her duality against her. That just accepted her for her.” 

“But they wouldn’t be accepting her for her. They wouldn’t know she’s a witch. And come time for her dark baptism she will have to leave them all behind anyway. Why make it more difficult?” Zelda countered. 

Playing her final card, Hilda murmured, “Zelds, Diana would’ve wanted Sabrina to know the mortal realm.” 

She flinched at the words, “and Edward was **adamant** that Sabrina be in the witching realm.” Her eyes must have been a little wild because Hilda lowered her armful of tomatoes and placed a hand on Zelda’s forearm. 

“And she will be. But that won’t even come for another ten years, Zelda. Then the rest of her life will be in the witching realm. Why not let her have ten years to be in both?” 

Zelda’s cheek muscle twitched, she didn’t like it, but Hilda made some logical arguments. She also felt that she owed the dead mortal woman her brother had married. Though she still hadn’t quite forgiven Diana for stealing her brother away and the events that culminated in their deaths, Diana had inadvertently made Zelda a mother—which was something she could never really repay. 

Besides, Hilda was right. Diana would want Sabrina to be part of the mortal world, even if only for a little while. Really, was allowing Sabrina to attend mortal primary school such a bad thing? Making friends her own age that didn’t have a prejudice against her would be good for Sabrina and her development. And….and it would certainly free up some time, reduce the workload on Zelda’s shoulders. Sighing, and sensing that this would very likely come back to bite her, she acquiesced. “Alright, we can enroll Sabrina in school for this fall.” 

Hilda nodded demurely, though Zelda could tell how excited her sister was that she’d agreed. 

When they informed Sabrina the next morning that she was going to school at the end of the month she was ecstatic. The joy radiating from the little girl as she hugged each of her aunts in turn was almost enough to make the anxiety swirling in Zelda’s gut worth it. 

“When can we go get my bookbag and other school things?” Sabrina inquired eagerly, bouncing on her toes—she’d watched enough mortal television to know the ritual of a new school year. 

“Your Aunt Hilda will take you as soon as she can.” Zelda interjected, before Hilda could get any ideas about group shopping trips. She didn’t think she would handle school supply shopping very well, for a number of reasons, but the foremost being she still didn’t want Sabrina to go. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The rest of the month passed with little fanfare, aside from Zelda hearing through the coven grapevine that Faustus was engaged to a witch who’d newly joined the coven, Constance. He’d also made Constance the choir director at the academy. She had expressed mild interest upon hearing the news, as was expected of her, but didn’t react otherwise. Very few people had been aware of their interactions and Zelda meant to keep it that way by appearing unaffected by the news. 

Though not surprised that he’d moved on, Zelda was surprised at how quickly Faustus had gotten engaged. Well, if anything this only further confirmed her belief that he would have grown bored with her and left on his own accord soon enough. 

A small nagging voice told her that Faustus was rebounding, a term she’d heard while Ambrose and Hilda watched some mortal drivel on the television. This same voice claimed that he was trying to fill the roles he’d hoped she’d take not only at the academy as choir director, but also in his life as his bride. 

Zelda dismissed these thoughts as nonsense, but occasionally she would catch him looking at her with such a burning intensity that it made her doubt her conclusions. But, as she had told him, she was far too busy for anything as frivolous as a relationship. And that meant she was certainly too busy to dwell on his impending nuptials. 

Busy with work, busy with her family, busy with whatever lucky witch or warlock she allowed to briefly occupy her bed. So yes, Zelda was entirely focused on almost anything other than Faustus getting married. 

Hilda’s voice cut through her musings, “Zelda?” 

Lowering the book she hadn’t really been reading, Zelda turned her attention to where Hilda was propped up against her own pillows in bed. “Yes, Hilda?” 

“I was thinking of turning in now so that I could get up a little earlier and make up a big first day of school breakfast for Sabrina…. Would you, could you turn your lamp off?” Hilda picked at the quilt resting in her lap, tentatively glancing at her. 

Marking her spot, Zelda nodded. “Of course, tomorrow is a big day. We should all get some rest.” She leaned over and set the book down and switched off the light. “Goodnight, Hilda.” She stated briskly, sliding further under the covers. 

“Night Zelds.” Came a soft reply from across the room. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Hours later their bedroom door burst open, Sabrina dashing in and diving under the covers of Zelda’s bed—curling up against her shocked and still half-asleep aunt. 

“Whatisit?” She demanded groggily, fireball already lighting up in her hand—the perimeter protection spells hadn’t gone off. Hilda had sat up as well at the commotion and sudden light, a little slower to react, but she also hadn’t just had 40 pounds of little girl jump on her. 

Just then thunder crashed and shook the house, immediately followed by lightning flashing outside. Sabrina squeaked from under the blanket and huddled closer to Zelda. Exhaling in relief, Zelda extinguished the flame in her hand and shook her head when Hilda made to get out of bed. 

“Sabrina,” she whispered, lifting the covers to find her niece. “Is it the storm that’s upsetting you?” Bright eyes met hers and Sabrina nodded furiously. “Alright,” Zelda slipped out of bed and pulled her robe on. “Come here.” She instructed softly, opening her arms and Sabrina launched herself into them. 

Smiling softly and murmuring soothing sentiments, Zelda carried her niece out of the room and down the hall, bypassing Sabrina’s room and descending the stairs to head outside. 

“Auntie Zelda,” Sabrina hedged, realizing that they were going to settle on the porch. Zelda hummed in acknowledgement and with a wave of her hand the rocking chair on the porch was dry and a barrier thrown up to keep out any more rain. “I don’t like storms.” 

Zelda settled into the rocking chair, cuddling Sabrina close. “I know sweet girl, but I think if you could watch a thunder storm, you’d realize there isn’t much to be scared of.” Sabrina nestled closer and made a small doubtful noise in the back of her throat but said nothing else. 

“When I was your age, I loved thunderstorms. I could feel the magic in them, the power. That something so far away could make such loud noises, cause such brilliant light and patterns, well, I was enthralled. Here,” she took Sabrina’s hand and placed it over the little girl’s heart. “Close your eyes and wait a moment.” 

Sabrina listened and 10 seconds later thunder crashed above them once more, the vibration moving through them. Zelda inhaled deeply, relishing the feeling. Sabrina gasped softly, but this time it wasn’t in fright. She turned to Zelda, her eyes lit up with excitement. 

“Did you feel it?” 

“Yes! It kind of tickled.” Sabrina grinned, and Zelda couldn’t help how her lips lifted to match. 

“Good. Now, keep your eyes open and wait for the lightning, it shouldn’t be too far behi—” A forked spear of electricity lit up the sky as Zelda spoke, and though it was indiscernibly far from them she could still detect the crackle in the air, the raw power and magic. Mortals always put it down to science, they always did with things they had trouble explaining. Witches knew better. 

Sabrina cheered and touched the hairs on her arms which were standing on end. “Auntie Zee, what kind of magic is this?” 

“Old magic, sweetheart. One of the oldest forms in existence. Not everyone can feel it.” Zelda felt sorry for those who couldn’t, it was an addictive sensation. “No one can recreate it exactly either, though I’ve come close.” 

Whipping her head around from where she’d been watching the storm, Sabrina demanded, “show me!” At her aunt’s raised eyebrow, she shifted slightly and added a much softer, “please?” 

Zelda pulled Sabrina closer to her and reached her arms out around her. “You cannot touch it, you’ll get hurt, understand?” Sabrina nodded eagerly, pressing herself against Zelda more firmly as if to demonstrate how well she would listen. 

Carefully, Zelda allowed a small arc of electricity to shoot from one palm to the other and then back. Sabrina oohed and ahhed but didn’t reach out. Zelda felt a surge of pride, that this power she’d used only years before to inspire fear could also inspire awe. 

“Will you teach me?” Sabrina shifted to face her, face pleading. 

Chuckling, Zelda tickled her until Sabrina was laughing, squirming and begging for mercy. “Maybe when you’re older.” She murmured after she’d stopped, and Sabrina had caught her breathe. “Are you ready for bed now?” 

“Can we, can we watch the storm a little longer?” 

Nodding and settling more comfortably into the chair Zelda agreed, “of course, sweetheart.” Sabrina beamed and leaned heavily against Zelda once more, taking her aunt's hands and holding them where they'd wrapped around her. They remained there until the storm had moved several miles south of them; at which point Zelda had started to doze off. 

“Auntie Zee!” Sabrina giggled, “are you falling asleep?” 

Zelda jerked up, “of course not.” She denied, which only made Sabrina laugh harder. “Alright, alright. You caught me.” She admitted, poking Sabrina in the side playfully. “But it is late, and we should both be in bed. You, you have a big day tomorrow. First day of school.” Zelda tried to smile encouragingly at this last statement and thankfully Sabrina didn’t notice how strained it was. She merely nodded and hopped off Zelda’s lap and held out her hand expectantly. Zelda’s smile grew warmer, more genuine and she took Sabrina’s hand and the two of them made their way back to Sabrina’s room. 

As she tucked Sabrina in, she tilted her head at her and asked, “you’ll be alright the rest of the night?” 

“Yes, Aunt Zelda. Thank you.” Came a tired reply. 

“Alright then, damned dreams darling.” Zelda kissed Sabrina’s forehead and stood to leave. 

Sabrina’s hand shot out and caught her arm, “wait.” 

Zelda lowered herself on the edge of the bed once more, “what is it?” She inquired softly. 

Her niece simply sat up and placed a hand on each of Zelda’s cheeks before leaning in and brushing the tip of her nose against Zelda’s twice in quick succession. 

“What, what was that?” Zelda asked amused, touching her nose. 

“Eskimo kiss,” Sabrina replied sleepily, already borrowing back into her blankets. 

Zelda blinked, what did Eskimos? She just shook her head, “oh, okay. Goodnight, Sabrina.” 

“Night Auntie Zee, love you.” 

“Love you too, sweet girl.” Smoothing Sabrina’s hair one last time, Zelda stood and made her way back to her own bed. 

~~~~~~~ 

Of course, by morning the weather had cleared. The sun bright and cheery in the sky—quite contradicting Zelda’s mood. She really was quite dreading taking Sabrina to school. As they were heading out the door, she and Hilda each holding one of Sabrina’s hands, a client astral projected into the yard. 

“Praise Satan I caught you Sister Hilda. My wife, her morning sickness hasn’t stopped since 5am this morning. We ran out of your tonic. Please, do you have any more?” 

Hilda looked torn, “not made, I could whip some up, but—” 

“Yes, please, thank you. Thank you, Hilda.” The husband looked so relieved that Hilda released Sabrina’s hand and knelt in front of her. 

“I have to stay here and make medicine for Ms. Cecilia,” she explained gently. “I wish I could come with you to school, but I need to help Ms. Cecilia because she is very sick. But I want to hear all about your first day when I come pick you up, alright?” 

Sabrina frowned but nodded and hugged Hilda before reclaiming Zelda’s hand and leading the way down the driveway. 

Zelda looked over her shoulder in distress, she had been counting on Hilda to be there when they dropped Sabrina off. Had counted on Hilda being the emotional one so that, in comparison, Zelda’s own reaction would seem like nothing. But there wasn’t any helping it, Hilda had to stay behind and make the tonic. 

Straightening her shoulders, Zelda turned forward and continued to walk. She could handle this, it was no different than leaving Sabrina with Ambrose for a few hours while she and Hilda ran errands or went to some coven event. 

But as the school came into view, the weight in Zelda’s stomach grew heavier. She stopped when they were on the sidewalk in front of the building, other parents bidding their children goodbye as well. Crouching to be on Sabrina’s level, Zelda straightened the ribbon in her hair and smoothed her dress. 

“Now remember, you cannot tell anyone that we are witches. The other children may tell their parents and their parents could be descendants of witch hunters.” Sabrina gasped, clearly remembering the stories Zelda had told her. “Do you understand how serious it is that you do not tell anyone about us?” 

Nodding earnestly, Sabrina chimed, “yes, Auntie Zee.” 

Zelda smiled, “alright then. Have a good first day.” Sabrina surged forward and hugged Zelda hard, forcing her to put out an arm to balance herself while the other circled tightly around the little girl. “If you change your mind, you just call, okay? You remember the house number?” Zelda whispered, part of her hoping that Sabrina would change her mind. 

Sabrina nodded against her neck and pulled away. “I know, but I won’t need to. I’ll be brave like you Aunt Zelda.” She gave her a toothy grin before bounding off towards the school where the teachers were greeting their students. 

Zelda subtly wiped the corner of her eye and waited until Sabrina disappeared into the building, looking back one last time and waving excitedly at her aunt before leaving. 

She tried. She truly did try those first years that Sabrina was at mortal school. She chaperoned field trips, helped in the classroom—all because Sabrina begged her to. Satan knew how many times she was tempted to dose the teacher with a potion to make her forget some inane mortal holiday. 

But she persisted or sent Hilda when she really couldn’t stomach an event—she particularly hated Valentine’s day. All the pink and red hearts, the glitter that lingered for weeks despite her vanishing spells. How they made the children give a card to everyone so that no one felt left out…. It was truly a vile holiday. 

Not that she minded all the mortal school holiday traditions. Some she came to rather enjoy. Especially when Sabrina came bursting into her workroom one day after school when she was in the first grade, exclaiming that she’d gotten a singing solo in the winter holiday pageant. 

“Auntie Zee, will you help me?” She’d begged, climbing onto the stool at Zelda’s workbench and looking at her pleadingly. “You’re the best singer I know. You’re much better than my music teacher, Ms. Lowing.” 

Zelda smiled, she would have agreed regardless of Sabrina’s compliments. She rather missed singing with her sweet girl as they worked side by side. Sabrina had eagerly showed her the other songs as well, hoping that she would help with them all. 

Zelda grimaced at several of the titles and lyrics—some of the songs so clearly praising the false god that even with her broken faith she had trouble swallowing her dislike and helping Sabrina. But other songs, the other songs had lovely melodies, the cadence rising and falling so naturally that Zelda soon found herself humming them while alone in the morgue or her workroom. 

This progressed to them playing Christmas music throughout the house during December. Sabrina then convinced them to decorate the house with lights, garland and even a tree. Her argument being that Christmas had been perverted to the extent that is was no longer about the false god and his spawn of a son, but a being called Santa, presents, decorations and music. 

She and Hilda did their own research to verify this—no need to be excommunicated over a pine tree with a few lights on it. Sabrina’s argument had merit, so they caved and put up a tree. Though Zelda did attempt to make the whole thing slightly less mortal—it was a Yule tree, she insisted, a Yule tree. And she may have added her own flair to the tree ornaments; they were far too cheery otherwise. 

Soon the entire house was decorated, with holiday music filtering through it and themed cookies in piles in the kitchen. Ambrose even found a mortal tale, A Christmas Carol, that they could all agree upon, and each night they found themselves curled up next to the fire in the parlor with hot cider as he read several chapters aloud. 

It was all frightfully mortal and Zelda, though enjoying the festivities and her family’s reaction to them, was always a bit reserved. Keeping one ear perked for a perimeter spell warning—sure that the coven would somehow sense what they’d done and come for them. Well, if anything, Zelda could try and defend their actions as embracing Sabrina’s duality… though she wasn’t sure how well that defense would hold. 

While Zelda couldn’t bring herself to say no to trivial things such as Christ—Yule trees and holiday tales by the fire, she found herself regularly saying no to Sabrina’s other requests that Zelda thought could strengthen her niece’s ties to the mortal world. 

Invitations to play dates, birthday parties and sleepovers began to roll in and Zelda was frequently put in the position of telling Sabrina no. She no longer worried that someone from the coven would hurt Sabrina for her duality, didn’t think that every cold or illness was a curse. No, what kept her up at night now was the fear that Sabrina would form too close of bonds with mortals and not want to break them when the time came. 

She’d already lost a brother because of a mortal. She refused to lose her niece as well. 

The shift had Sabrina shocked, argumentative and then distant; upset that Auntie Zee now constantly told her no. It did not help that Hilda was the one who often talked her into giving in— _it’s only a sleepover, Zelds; only a playdate in the park, Zelds_. They became the ‘good cop’ ‘bad cop’ and Zelda hated it. 

Hated saying no and seeing the disappointment, the eventual resignation, in Sabrina’s face. Hated that because of this, Sabrina stopped asking Zelda to help at school, asked for only Hilda to tuck her in at night, became sulky, even petulant, if Zelda tried to help her with breakfast. 

So, Zelda withdrew as well. Allowed Hilda to become the classroom ‘parent’—turned out that the children loved her presence far more than Zelda’s, only bid Sabrina goodnight verbally, and hid behind her paper at breakfast. 

She tried not to remember how things used to be. How not even 6 months ago Sabrina had still asked to sit in her lap as she read the paper, curious about why the words and letters didn’t match the ones she knew. Tried not to remember how it had become a game, Zelda trying to get a paper in a different language each day—Spanish, French, German, Russian, Arabic, Chinese. Just so Sabrina would clamber onto her lap and giggle as she read the stories out loud in the language on the page. Zelda had even started to learn new languages just to keep the game fun, interesting and evolving. But Sabrina had lost interest in the game, lost interest in her. 

Hilda tried to reassure her that it was just a phase. Zelda knew better. 

The time had come for her to keep the promise she’d made to herself on the day they’d learned of Edward’s death. She wouldn’t make the same mistakes with her niece as she had with her brother. She’d say no and mean it. She’d say no and not cave in. She could trade her closeness, her bond with Sabrina, for her niece’s safety. She could, would. 

The years that followed the start of Sabrina’s mortal schooling seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. But the speed with which they passed didn’t make them, or the rift that formed between Zelda and Sabrina, any easier. Didn’t make it any easier to raise her niece and give her the distance she so clearly wanted. Didn’t make it easier to run the mortuary, work as a midwife, and keep the household from falling apart or catching fire if Ambrose was feeling experimental. 

Cracks were beginning to form. But Zelda knew she couldn’t scream or cry. Couldn’t complain—Edward never had. She had to be the strong one, the others couldn’t see the stress…how she felt she was being crushed beneath it at times. 

So, she’d turned to a practice she’d disapproved of since learning of it. Zelda had never understood why one would choose to inflict bodily pain as penance. Surely to best serve anyone, the Dark Lord included, one needed to be in peak mental and physical condition—and, in her mind, flogging always seemed to detract from both. 

But now? Now she needed something, anything, and the Church of Night claimed that flogging built strength. And strength is what she needed. So, she purchased a flog and hid it in the trunk at the foot of her bed. It remained there for a month before she decided she couldn’t keep going on with the way things were—she’d almost cried in front of Sabrina the other day. She couldn’t let them see her weakness, her cracks. 

She’d waited until everyone was gone, well not Ambrose, but he was in the attic absorbed his books, so Zelda thought she was safe. Carefully, she snuck into the basement, looking to take advantage of the silencing spells already in place, and locked the doors. 

Everything was ready, her dress lay in a neat, folded pile on the exam table, the antiseptics ready for when she finished. But Zelda found herself fiddling with the end of the flog, trying to convince herself to proceed. 

There were surely other ways…but as she thought, Zelda realized that there wasn’t—not for her. She couldn’t go to the church for comfort, strength and confession like she once had. She refused to show her family her failure to remain strong for them—they’d already gone through so much, she couldn’t let them see her falter. She had no meaningful romantic partner to lean on…she’d seen to that. 

And her friends, well, she didn’t really have any of those left. Several had cut ties after Edward announced his engagement to a mortal. As if his actions were contagious—therefore they’d treated Zelda as if she had the plague. The ones that remained were her closest from her time at the academy. But as with many childhood friendships, life interfered. Zelda had found herself suddenly the head of the Spellman household, a surrogate mother, and the proprietor of not only her and Hilda’s midwife business but also the mortuary. There was no time for tea and conjurings or gossip about the most eligible warlocks during witching hour. And, eventually, her friends had gone on to be married and had children of their own. 

So no, there was nowhere and no one to turn to, she was alone in this—carrying the Spellman family. Zelda nodded, this was the path she needed, had to, take. Gripping the flog tightly, she lifted it. 

The first blow was tentative. But the pain it caused distracted her from the stress, the cracks. So, she struck again, and again. Harder with each one, small whimpers escaping her. But the pain helped relieve everything that was being pent up inside—the anger, emotional pain, doubts and insecurities, the rejection, the need for comfort and connection. 

She couldn’t have these wants, these needs. Her family came first. Family came first, she repeated like a mantra with each blow. Zelda stopped at ten, knowing she shouldn’t take it too far on her first attempt. She carefully turned and glanced over her shoulder to the mirror. 

Her back was blossoming with a rainbow of angry colors, welts rising. She’d need to be certain not to let the others see, couldn’t let them know she was weak and needed an outlet, couldn’t let them know she was unable to handle the responsibilities of being head of the house. 

And she had to be strong for them. Be strong so that they could be weak if needed, so they could scream and cry and rage and know that she would be there, as steadfast as a rock. She needed to be strong, she had to. 

Sighing, Zelda carefully applied the antiseptics, waved her hand to quick dry them and then carefully pulled her dress back into place, wincing at the contact. She wasn’t proud of what she’d done, in fact, she was ashamed she’d had to resort to any sort of coping method. 

But it was necessary. She now understood, the act of flogging wasn’t to seek forgiveness, it was meant only for punishment, to purge out weakness and forge strength. And she needed punished. For struggling under the weight of her responsibilities, she should be stronger than that—Edward had been. 

Zelda cleaned up the morgue and unlocked the doors with a flick of her wrist. When she reached the top of the stairs, she made sure no one was around to see her before hurrying upstairs to hide the flog in her trunk once more. 

Perhaps she couldn’t keep the cracks from forming, but she could keep them from showing. She could maintain the public face of a strong head of the Spellman house. No one would ever question or doubt that Zelda Spellman was anything but strong. She could do that, she could…she had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my opinion, Zelda turned to whipping herself too quickly at the end of 1x09 for that to have been her first time doing it. So, I added some background.
> 
> Decided that Zelda refused to bring Sabrina up religiously because how else would that girl know so little about the church and its traditions (i.e. the feast of feasts)? Also, Blackwood is probably OOC—but I’ve always imagined him having a softer side when it came to Zelda.
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry if this chapter rambles a bit, but again, I wanted to include so many ideas and even cut out some that just didn't quite fit. Hope you like it :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rest will follow the show more or less, so I am using dialogue and scenes from the episodes and putting my own twist on them. I do skip over plot points because this is Zelda's POV and she isn't in every scene (obviously) hopefully it makes sense. Thanks and enjoy :)

Zelda glanced at the calendar for the third time that morning—as if she didn’t already know the date. As if she hadn’t been counting down all week, hell, all year. Exhaling slowly, she closed the refrigerator without taking anything out and sat back down at the table with only her expresso and a cigarette; too stressed to eat. 

It was finally the week of Sabrina’s 16th birthday. In four days time it would be done. Soon. Soon it would be over and then she could breath. Then she could put down this burden Edward had forced her to carry for over a decade and a half. Come Friday, Zelda wouldn’t have to pretend as though Sabrina’s name wasn’t already in the Book of Beast. She wouldn’t have to lie to her family anymore, could stop forcing the church and the Path of Night down Sabrina’s throat. Soon, she repeated to herself pouring another expresso, soon. 

When the others joined her in the kitchen Zelda hid herself behind her morning paper, not wanting to give the appearance that anything was out of the ordinary. Sabrina came down not much later and greeted them. 

“Morning darling, how did you sleep?” Hilda asked from where she was finishing breakfast for the Ambrose and Sabrina. 

Zelda allowed her paper to droop so that she could see her niece. “Tempestuously, by the sounds of it.” She remarked, raising her brows, she hadn’t missed the glass breaking or the loud thump the night before. But her protection spells hadn’t been triggered so she knew it was no real cause for alarm. 

When Sabrina stated that it was an exciting time Zelda felt some of the tension drain from her, praise Satan, she was looking forward to her baptism. Based on conversations this past month, Zelda had been doubting Sabrina’s enthusiasm for the rite of passage into the witching realm. But this, this was encouraging. 

She hummed and decided to try and further increase Sabrina’s excitement for the event. “I remember the week before my dark baptism. It felt as if my real life were finally beginning. I barely slept.” She took a drag from her cigarette, remembering back to how simple everything had been then. She truly had been exhilarated to sign her name, access her full abilities and become closer to the Dark Lord. How foolish she had been, how naïve. 

Her attention was brought back to the conversation when Ambrose offered to bring the bat that had flown through Sabrina’s window last night back to life. “No, Ambrose,” she cut in tiredly, “we’ll have none of your necromancy.” Lucifer help her, she knew the boy was restless but dabbling in the darkest arts was not something she would encourage—though she supposed he would learn that lesson one way or the other, as long as it was only with small animals and not the corpses in the morgue. 

Sabrina merely shook her head at him and asked to bury the thing in the pet cemetery to which Hilda approved before setting down the cleansing ‘juice’ in front of her. Zelda folded her paper in order to answer her niece’s question. 

“Before it can be baptized, the temple of your body needs to be purified. Cleansed of its toxins.” She explained, not envying Sabrina. Even now, well over a century later she could remember the horrid taste of the concoction Sabrina was about to ingest—time had not improved the taste from what Hilda had told her. 

Ambrose glanced up from his book after Hilda explained, mostly, what was in the jar and coughed “don’t do it cousin!” 

“Ambrose,” Zelda scolded him. She knew he was being playful, but she was in no mood for his antics. Trying to distract Sabrina, Zelda picked up the book sitting on the chair next to her. “Sabrina, you need to pick a familiar before your dark baptism. The council sent the registry. I’ve, uh, indicated a few suitable options.” She opened the book and began to point out several of the familiars that had caught her attention… ones she thought would best be able to protect her niece. 

Sabrina rejected the idea, wanting to put out what essentially amounted to a ‘want ad’ in a paper for a familiar. Zelda bit the inside of her cheek as she poured herself more caffeine, she’d much prefer one of the goblins she’d marked in the book, she’d familiarized herself with them—made sure they would be up to the task. But, she glanced at Vinegar Tom where he was sleeping in his basket, she knew that picking one’s familiar was a deeply personal task and she knew that having someone disapprove of your choice only further cemented it your mind. That was how she’d ended up with Tom, her parents had tried to dissuade her from the floppy-eared, droopy-eyed hound, stating that it wouldn’t be good for the Spellman image for such a depressing looking creature to be her familiar. Their rejection of the poor beast had forcefully reminded her of the slights her parents had dealt her in recent years and there had been no further discussion—Vinegar Tom was hers. 

If nothing else this meant Sabrina had at least put thought and time into the decision and towards preparing for her dark baptism. This eased the clenching of Zelda’s stomach. “What about your baptismal name? Have you settled on one yet?” She asked, changing gears a bit. 

“I have, as a matter of fact.” Sabrina grinned excitedly, her shoulders lifting a little. “Edwina Diana. Edwina, which is almost Edward, to honor my father, and Diana, to honor my mother. And not just to honor them to be closer to them. To have them with me as I walk the Path of Night.” 

Zelda turned her head at the mention of these names, unable to help the slight upward twitch of her lips at the selection of Edwina—despite how little the man deserved honoring, given the circumstance he’d put them in. The sentiment was sweet, and Zelda was happy to see that regardless of never having really met her parents, Sabrina still felt close to them to a degree. It seemed that all of those bedtime stories about Edward and Diana truly had sunk in--good, neither sister had wanted Sabrina to go through life without knowledge of her family. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Zelda couldn’t bring herself to care about this mortal boy who had been stabbed. The timing was, as she’d told Hilda, hellishly perfect. It finally seemed as though everything was falling into place. Sabrina had picked her baptismal names, had plans for a familiar and now they had a fresh supply of blood for the ceremony… she sighed contentedly and tipped her head back once more, soon every day could feel this relaxing. 

Well, perhaps relaxing was a bit of a stretch. Sabrina came home not much later and explained that the weird sisters had cursed her while she was in the woods trying to summon a familiar. Zelda outwardly brushed it off, claiming the girls were jealous because of Sabrina’s heritage and their lack thereof, but she knew better. This was more hate towards her girl for her half-witch status, something that was still strong after this all this time--she'd hoped it would have lessened in recent years. 

As Sabrina headed upstairs to start the regiment Hilda had prescribed her to counter the curse, Zelda made eye contact with Hilda and moved to the other side of the counter to talk with her sister—both clearly thinking something similar. Before she could say a word though, Sabrina turned around. 

“Aunties? The weird sisters said something… about mom and dad.” 

Zelda furrowed her brows, “what did they say about your mother and father?” Those girls surely only knew what gossip existed about the former high priest and his mortal wife, and she and Hilda had made sure to prepare Sabrina about those things—nothing should have shaken her. 

“Their accident. They were almost implying that it _wasn’t_ an accident.” Sabrina looked at them expectantly, playing with the hem of her skirt. 

Her heart seized, others thought the same? Had she been hiding and pretending all this time for nothing? But Zelda couldn’t allow the rest of her family to believe that Edward and Diana had been murdered, it would place them all in too much danger; especially if it was just teenage girls being cruel for the sake of it. She exchanged a quick look with Hilda before exclaiming, “well, that’s just poppycock. Your father and mother were flying to Italy. Edward was to give a lecture at the Vatican when their plane went down.” Hilda squeezed her hand where it rested on the counter, and Zelda added a softer, “tragically,” to the end of her statement. 

She then shooed Sabrina upstairs to begin her counter-curse treatment. Hilda chewed her lip and looked at her, eyes shining. “Why would they say such things to her?” Hilda questioned, moving to clean up the bowl with the bloody egg. “Cursing her, well that’s just what younger witches do, curse and hex one another silly until they realize that those measures shouldn’t be used carelessly. But this? To torment her by suggesting Edward and Diana’s deaths weren’t an accident? Why?” 

Zelda crossed her arms to hide the minute shaking of her hands, glad that Hilda hadn't seen the comment as an actual indication of murder. “As I told Sabrina years ago, witches are not naturally kind beings. They were just being cruel, nothing more. Though I am going to revamp Sabrina’s protection spells.” 

“Isn’t it a little early for that? You just freshened them up six months ago, you usually do that once a year.” Hilda observed, placing the bowl in her hand in the dishwasher. 

Zelda cocked her head in acknowledgement, “yes, but as you so concisely stated, young witches throw around harmful spells for fun, to test their power and to try and earn themselves reputations. Sabrina is about to enter this world full time, and while most spells performed by younger witches are less powerful some can be truly dangerous. As this blood curse has indicated.” She waved her hand at the sink where the egg had just been disposed of. “I’ll freshen the ones I currently have and add a few more… that, and the teachers at the academy, should hopefully keep Sabrina safe.” Zelda nodded once more and went off to the library to find the books she needed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Postpone it?!” Zelda’s insides froze at Sabrina’s words the next morning at breakfast. Dear Satan, they were so close, only three days away and Sabrina wanted to postpone her baptism…. for, for a mortal school club? “Sabrina, you _cannot postpone_ your 16th birthday, especially when it falls on the eclipsing of a blood moon which only occurs once every 66 years.” She’d taken the fact that Sabrina’s baptismal birthday fell on the same night as, not only a blood moon but also an eclipsed blood mood as a strong sign of good fortune. Very few witches were able to sign under such circumstances, legend claimed that to do so increased the witch’s power. Not that this was why Sabrina had to sign, there were a multitude of other reasons why she **had** to. Hilda’s hand on her shoulder quieted her for a moment. 

“If it’s just about a club, dear—” she began, about to gently point out that in the grand scheme of things this club would hardly matter. Zelda was thankful Hilda was going to address this, she knew her own words would sound far too harsh. 

Sabrina glanced between the two of them, “it’s not, Aunt Hilda. There’s also the Harvey of it all. We very recently took things to the next level.” 

Zelda’s mouth quite literally dropped open in horror. “He hasn’t defiled you, has he?” She demanded, the hardboiled egg she’d been holding falling to her plate, quite forgotten. Not again, not again. She couldn’t lose Sabrina too. Her parents gone, her brothers gone, she’d pushed Faustus away, Ambrose was forced to stay. And Hilda, well, she’d been horrid to Hilda for years. If Hilda left her it would be her fault and she’d deserve it. But Sabrina… she couldn’t lose Sabrina, and not to a mortal—not for the same reason she’d lost Edward. 

“Witch law forbids novitiates from being anything less than virginal.” After the dark baptism no one cared, everyone knew witches had a healthy sexual appetite. But a witch or warlock must first give themselves to the Dark Lord by way of signing the book before giving themselves physically to another. Ambrose’s muttered ‘oh wow,’ helped nothing. 

Sabrina looked appalled, “Aunt Zelda! Not that it’s _anyone’s_ business, but no.” 

She and Hilda loosed twin sighs of relief and a “praise Satan.” Before moving on with what they’d been doing before Sabrina asked to postpone the event. 

But her niece wasn’t one to let things go easily, “however, now that you bring it up, I admit, I have reservations about saving myself for the Dark Lord. Why does he get to decide what I do or don’t do with my body?” 

Because he is dangerous. Because he takes what he wants without discretion anyway and will cause as much pain in the process if you fight it, Zelda thought, looking at her niece. Though what came out of her mouth was easier to explain than her reasons for thinking this. “Because it is witch law. Covenant.” And the last time a Spellman broke witch law it had ended in death. 

“Okay…. But why?” Sabrina pressed. When Zelda remained silent, she continued. “And if you don’t know, maybe I can talk to someone before my baptism, someone who can help me understand these things so I can make an educated choice.” 

Bile rose up the back of Zelda’s throat, “ **Choice?!** ” No, no, no, Sabrina didn’t have a choice, Edward had seen to that. “It is our sacred duty and honor to serve the Dark Lord. The extraordinary, delicious gifts he bestows on us in return for signing his book. And you, you would deny him that?” 

“It’s my name, Aunt Zelda.” Sabrina countered. And Zelda felt her sense of guilt increase. No, no it isn’t, sweet girl, she wanted to say. Your father signed it away long ago, it was only yours and yours alone for a few days. 

Zelda put down her food once more, appetite gone. “We all signed the book, and proudly, I might add.” She pushed away from the table, irritated and scared. “This is your mother’s influence.” And she regretted the words as soon as they came out, and really, how could a dead woman have so much power over Sabrina's decision? But it was too late to take the words back. 

Hilda scolded her as she left. “Zelda, calm down. Your blood pressure.” 

Zelda rolled her eyes, her blood pressure, her blood pressure. The reason she had problems with her blood pressure was because of Edward’s demands and everyone else in that damned house at the moment. She whipped around, fear and anger still roiling inside her, “this is your fault too.” She snapped at Hilda, eyes shining, needing someone to blame other than herself. “We should have home-schooled her, as is our custom.” Zelda had known, known 10 years ago that allowing Sabrina to go to mortal school would be a problem. One that she’d created, by giving in after saying no…. 

Her sister ignored the barbed insult and turned back to their niece. “Sabrina, do you not want to join the Church of Night as a full member, my love?” 

“I think so, I just don’t know why I have to give up everything in my life that’s human to do it.” 

“Witch law. The Path of Night or the Path of Light. But _not_ both.” Zelda exclaimed, pressing her lips together when Sabrina mockingly stated the last three words at the same time as her. 

Sabrina stood as well, rounding her chair. “And yet, my father, a warlock, married my mother, and she was human.” 

“Yes,” Zelda gripped the back of the chair in front of her. “And it very nearly got Edward excommunicated.” A small voice in the back of her head whispered, _’it got him killed instead.’_

Lifting the chair a bit and slamming it into the ground, Sabrina continued to argue with her. “Which begs the question, why would I want to join an organization that would do that to anyone I cared about?” 

“Because it’s what they wanted for you.” She exclaimed, perhaps if it was what her parents wanted Sabrina would agree—Satan knew she fought Zelda every step of the way when it was something her aunt encouraged. “Isn’t that right, Hilda?” She turned to Hilda for support, though she’d just blamed her, unfairly, moments ago, she needed her sister to help Sabrina see sense. “Didn’t Edward and Diana both say so?” Zelda wasn’t as sure about what Diana wanted, only that Edward had made her promise. But it was better to show Sabrina’s parents as a unified front. 

Hilda smiled gently at Sabrina then, likely trying to counter Zelda’s own abrasiveness. “Yes, they, they did lamb. Many times.” 

This seemed to quiet Sabrina, give her pause. But Zelda had to make sure that she knew that there wasn’t really a choice. She gave a short speech on Sabrina’s heritage, saying, in no uncertain terms, that Sabrina would be baptized, as would her future children and that was final. Zelda then turned and stalked upstairs, heart pounding. 

She didn’t know what would happen if Sabrina didn’t sign again, but she had _no_ intentions of finding out. 

~~~~~~~~~ 

Hilda came and found her after Sabrina had left for school. Asking if she wanted to work on the puzzle they had started but never seemed to have the time to finish—it was the first slow day at the mortuary in ages. Nodding, Zelda put down the book she’d been pretending to read, thankful for the distraction. She’d been wondering what had happened to the little girl who used to come to her because she was afraid of thunderstorms, to the little girl who had trusted her. The one who, after Zelda had shown her that thunder and lightning were magic, would sneak into her room at night and place a soft hand on her cheek and whisper ‘Auntie Zee, it’s a thunderstorm,’ before taking her hand and leading her onto the porch so they could watch together. 

Shaking herself, Zelda followed Hilda down the stairs and the two of them were arguing about whether certain pieces fit together when Ambrose interrupted, stating they had to see something down in the embalming room. 

A witch's mark. Of all the things Zelda did not need on top of everything else going on, a dead witch on their embalming table was certainly one. She hoped it was a birthmark, that the blood had settled in his back and buttocks as she’d claimed—but she wasn’t sure that was true. 

“Might be worth bringing up to the council.” Ambrose suggested, looking between them. 

Zelda sighed and looked down at the murdered young man on their table, witch hunters, she shuddered. They were supposed to be villains out of the stories she used to tell Sabrina when she was little. To think they could still be around and in their area, no less, was discomforting. “Yet another reason Sabrina needs to join the Church of Night.” She murmured. “So, she’s protected. Witches without covens are easy pickings.” 

Hilda fidgeted, then, pulling at her cardigan sleeves. “I’ve been praying on that, Zelda, and I just think that if she wants to talk to someone, an outside opinion—” 

She scoffed lightly, already disliking the idea, she didn’t want anyone in the coven knowing Sabrina was having doubts. “Who would you have her talk to, Hilda? The Dark Lord himself?” 

“No,” she chuckled, “no, but I just—, I feel like as close to him as reasonably possible.” Hilda finished softly, eyeing Zelda warily. 

Zelda closed her eyes and took a deep breath, she knew exactly who Hilda was referring to, and she didn’t like it one bit. She instructed Ambrose to continue carefully and then stalked out of the room, twisting her rings. 

Sabrina might not remember how frequently Faustus had come to the house, the little gifts he’d bring her, how close her aunt had been to the man. But Zelda did. And it was painful still. But Hilda was right, Sabrina wasn't taking their word when it came to her dark baptism, speaking to someone would be helpful. Maybe, maybe she could ask one of the acolytes to come instead. Surely that would be enough. And they were younger, one of them could related to Sabrina better than a centuries old high priest. 

Yes, an acolyte really was the best choice, she smiled at her decision and went to phone the academy to see if anyone was available. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

A knock on the front door later that night signaled the arrival of the acolyte the academy agreed to send. Smoothing her dress, Zelda opened the door. Only, instead of a young acolyte, Faustus stood there with a rather smug smile on his face at having been able to surprise her. 

“Zelda,” he murmured, and she hated how it set her heart pounding. It wasn’t that she’d avoided him since she’d ended things, per se, Zelda Spellman avoided no one—and in any case it would have been impossible. It was just that, for the better part of a decade she’d made sure they only interacted in group settings at the coven; even after his marriage to Constance—she didn’t trust him, or herself, to resist the pull that still existed between them. Now, here he was standing on her front porch like no time had passed whatsoever. 

“Father Blackwood,” she replied smoothly, proud of how unaffected she sounded and appeared. “What a surprise. I expected one of your acolytes. I would have thought the spiritual visit to a teenager below the office of the high priest.” She arched a brow at him, silently challenging his presence. 

Faustus just smirked, “I take the guidance of my coven very seriously. Especially those about to enter the Dark Lord’s service.” He brushed past her and hung up his coat. “Are we meeting in the parlor?” He inquired, though he was already heading into that particular room, not so subtly demonstrating he still knew the layout of her home. 

She looked to the ceiling for patience and strength before following Faustus and sitting, perhaps a little stiffly, on the couch across from him. Even Hilda bustling around with tea and biscuits and Ambrose ambling in to lean against the fire place didn’t relax her. To her irritation, Faustus seemed far too comfortable for her liking, leaning back into his seat and observing her, a hand resting on his cane where is was propped on the floor. The looks Ambrose kept shooting her, a mix of concern that her spine would snap and amusement, was certainly something she could have done without as well. 

Just when Zelda wasn’t sure she could stand the forced small talk any longer Sabrina came home. She sighed in relief and Hilda called out for Sabrina to join them. 

“Is this the child?” Faustus asked, as if he hadn’t been over almost every other day from when Sabrina was three until that eventful day when she was five. 

But perhaps he was purposefully asking, so that Sabrina wouldn’t be disturbed by the fact that this man knew her by name. “She is, your Excellency.” Zelda used his most formal title, trying to convey to Sabrina that they had the most important and highest-ranking member of the Church of Night in their home. 

“This is our niece, Sabrina.” Hilda offered, following Zelda’s lead, for which she was grateful. 

Sabrina paused and stood partially behind a chair, eyes sweeping over everyone in the room before resting on Faustus. 

The high priest leaned forward, “oh, my child. You have no idea how special you are, do you? How you’ve been chosen.” 

Zelda suppressed an eye roll, every witch about to sign the book was told they were ‘special’, ‘chosen’ by the Dark Lord to receive these powers. Though she knew Sabrina was indeed special, Zelda also knew that was quite biased of her and Faustus was just saying what he would have to any family requesting council. 

“Sorry, do I know you?” Sabrina eyed him, and Zelda’s heart stuttered, surely, she didn’t remember him from when she was little. But, after a moment, it appeared to be a genuine question and not one of Sabrina attempting to place where she’d seen him before. 

Hilda piped in, “Sabrina, we are being honored tonight. This is Faustus Blackwood. He’s high priest for the Church of Night.” She supplied, when not even a flicker of recognition crossed Sabrina’s face at the name. Honestly, Zelda knew she’d neglected Sabrina’s religious education outside of the 13 commandments, but she knew for a fact that she'd at least taught the girl who their high priest was. “Dark Lord Satan’s representative on earth…” Hilda added as well, grimacing slightly at the need for an explanation. 

Faustus cut in then, seemingly unperturbed by the need for an introduction. “Your aunts tell me you’re having doubts about your baptism. That you may, in fact, not be signing your name in the Book of Beast?” 

Sabrina just gaped at him, clearly at a loss, “ummm,”

“No, no, no. That cannot be. That _must_ not be. So, let us see what I can do to convince you.” He nodded to a chair and sat back once more, ready to answer questions. 

Faustus answered each of Sabrina’s questions with ease, and though he was sugarcoating some aspects and not being entirely truthful about others, Zelda held her tongue. Now certainly wasn’t the time or place to be voicing her own lack of faith. Besides, this was all to ease Sabrina’s doubts and concerns about the baptism, if his white lies made everything go smoother then Zelda wouldn't object. 

Then Sabrina mentioned how Edward and Diana had possibly been murdered, Zelda clenched her fists, clearly, she hadn’t soothed away that particular concern as well as she’d thought. But for Sabrina to bring it up to the high priest, of all people, was dangerous. Thankfully, Faustus didn’t seem to mind, explaining that an inquiry had been held and no malfeasance detected. 

Zelda swallowed a scoff, yes, an inquiry, she thought derisively. An inquiry headed by individuals on the council outside of the Church of Night. Individuals who owed much to the Dark Lord and would do as he said in terms of the investigation and what results needed to be found. Zelda had read the report, scoured it over and over, looking for hints of the foul play she’d known had taken place. But they’d covered their tracks well, and she hadn’t been sure what she’d have done had any evidence of murder shown itself—just as well that she hadn’t found anything. Sabrina's voice recaptured her attention. 

“Lastly, earlier today I took a bite from a malum malus,” Sabrina announced. 

Zelda blinked, whipping her head to stare at her niece, “ _you did what?_ ” How had Sabrina even known such a thing existed? There weren’t many references to it in texts, most authors found it to be too a dangerous tool which showed only parts of the future and withhold others to even write about it. The consumption of a malum malus hadn’t been recommended in almost a century. Zelda tightened her fists a little further, muscles aching, but it grounded her, allowed her to refocus on the conversation. 

She then peeked at Faustus to see his reaction, he looked startled more than anything. Zelda exhaled quietly, praising Satan that he didn’t appear insulted by Sabrina’s extreme action to try and determine if she should be baptized. He simply echoed what Zelda had been thinking, that the malum malus was unpredictable and unreliable. That it was right for Sabrina to question and challenge so much. 

He then promised her free choice. Zelda swallowed hard at that, this was the lie that had gotten Edward killed. Yes, witches had free will, as long as their choices aligned with the Dark Lord’s plan, his rules. It was true, a few witches were able to leave the church relatively unscathed, but those were not to be seen as inspiration stories—more as ones of caution considering what they'd given up to be 'free'. 

Faustus was standing to leave when Ambrose spoke up, speaking of the body in the basement. Frowning, Zelda and Hilda followed the men downstairs, Sabrina coming in last and leaning against the door. 

“A witch’s mark without question.” Faustus announced, and Hilda glanced back at her knowingly. Zelda rolled her eyes, yes her sister had been right, what a wonderful thing to have been right about, dead witches and hunters. Though Faustus’ disbelief that it was the work of a witch hunter was comforting, even if he did agree to bring it up to the council to be safe. 

“Thank you, Father Blackwood, I will see you out.” Zelda nodded at the others and led the way upstairs. When they reached the door, Zelda paused. “Thank you, Faustus.” She repeated, with more warmth and sincerity this time. “Sabrina’s been quite anxious about this whole thing and nothing I say or do has alleviated any of that. I think your words calmed her worries.” 

He smiled tenderly at her and stepped closer. “Of course, Zelda. Anything for yo—,” he coughed, “a coven member.” He corrected, eyes darting over her shoulder as he pulled his coat on and put some space between them. 

Zelda turned to follow his gaze and found Sabrina and Hilda there, grimacing when they realized they’d interrupted. But Sabrina stepped forward, “I just, I wanted to thank you again for coming, Father Blackwood.” She stated, holding out her hand to shake his. “I know you’re very busy and I appreciate that you came out here to speak with me.” 

Faustus raised a brow and shook Sabrina’s hand. “Of course, Ms. Spellman, I look forward to seeing you on Friday.” Sabrina nodded and Hilda ushered her up the stairs. He watched the two of them disappear before opening the door and stepping outside. He stopped for a moment and faced Zelda once more. “You’ve done a marvelous job with her, Zels. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” He took her hand, kissed the back of it and teleported away before she could respond, leaving her feeling rather wrong-footed and missing his company. 

Sighing, Zelda headed up to her bedroom, it’d been a long day, all she wanted was to sleep. But as she passed Sabrina’s room, she heard Hilda remark that Faustus was dramatic. She smirked, she couldn’t deny it, most witches were, why live life as long as they did without a touch of dramatics and flair? The cane was only his latest fashion statement, they all went through their phases. It just happened that she and Hilda had been stuck in their current ones for the past decade—neither one finding a new look that appealed to them more than their current ones. 

She moved to continue and leave them be when Sabrina asked if Hilda had doubts about her dark baptism. Zelda rushed to their bedroom to astral project, knowing that Hilda’s facial expressions said just as much as her words did. She couldn’t let Hilda ruin everything, not now that they’d gotten back on track. 

Zelda wasn’t proud of having to resort to eavesdropping, she more than anyone knew the value of privacy and trust. But if she had to breach both to protect her family, it was a necessary evil. Very necessary from the sounds of it, Hilda was actually encouraging Sabrina to consider her options. 

She sat up abruptly when Hilda tucked Sabrina in, panicking and furious at her siblings for doing this to her. There was no choice, Edward had made sure of that, but Hilda had always offered another path—not homeschooling Sabrina, allowing her to make meaningful connections with mortals, encouraging her to date Harvey. 

Oh, her siblings would be the death of her. But before that, she’d have to take drastic measures ensure Hilda stopped her fairytales about young witches having options. They hadn’t had one, Sabrina certainly didn’t either. Zelda sighed, she hadn’t killed Hilda in almost six months. She’d thought they were on the same page for Sabrina’s future—at least as far as the dark baptism. Apparently not. 

Grumbling, Zelda leveraged herself off the floor and climbed into bed just as Hilda came into the room, looking a little sheepish though there was no way for her to know that Zelda had overheard the conversation. She merely rolled over and turned off her lamp, already planning how she would have to kill Hilda in the morning. 

It was a bothersome process, killing her sister. She had to make sure to kill her in one blow, no need for Hilda to suffer, make sure the mortuary wasn’t busy that day or that Sabrina had a school function for them to attend since Hilda was taking longer to resurrect. And, really, it was always more convenient when Hilda was out in the garden to begin with… so she didn’t have to drag her as far. Sighing, Zelda fell into a fitful sleep full of plane crashes, punishments from the Dark Lord for failing, and Hilda dying by her hand over and over.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for this chapter...and from now on it might be safe just to assume there is one attached to the rest of the chapters. There won't be self-harm in each one, but in case I miss adding a warning I don't want anyone caught unawares.

The mortal boy had come over for a visit. Zelda sighed and resigned herself to put up with his presence for the morning. Sabrina kept him far away most times, rightfully so, their house had too many magical things ongoing for the constant presence of mortals. Which meant that he’d come without Sabrina’s knowledge, and that could only mean he intended to ask for a favor. 

Zelda suspected it would seem innocent enough, but considering it was the day before Sabrina’s dark baptism she knew she would once again be telling her niece no. Sabrina bounced into the kitchen and looked just as confused by Harvey’s visit as they rest of them had been. 

“I wanted to surprise you,” he told Sabrina when she asked why he was there. 

Zelda clinked her spoon against the sides of her cup a little more loudly than strictly necessary, “and isn’t it the loveliest surprise.” She cut in dryly, trying to convey to Sabrina that they needed to get this mortal out of their house before he witnessed something magical. While their kind were discreet around mortals, they would not expect the need for discretion so early in the morning and Zelda knew they had a witching family coming in very soon to discuss funeral arrangements. 

Harvey swallowed and continued, a little flustered, and Zelda couldn’t help but smirk at how intimidated he was by her. “Um, also to ask your aunts…” He paused turning his attention back to Sabrina, “I, uh… know you can’t do anything on your actual birthday because you have plans.” 

“She does. Set in stone.” Zelda interjected once more, glancing up from her tea and giving Sabrina a meaningful look. 

The boy pushed on, and if nothing else Zelda had to give him credit for his persistence. “So, I came by to see if we could celebrate the next day. Uh, Saturday. Go bowling, maybe? You and me, and Susie and Roz. Your aunts can come… if they want.” He added, peeking at Zelda once more before quickly turning his eyes back to her niece. 

Satan help her, bowling? She hadn’t participated in that horrible mortal pastime since Sabrina was young and begged them to go—Zelda had staunchly refused to ever go again, the shoes they’d required her to wear still made her shudder. 

Sabrina’s voice cut into her musings. “The day _after_ my birthday.” She stammered, brows furrowing as she looked to Zelda for guidance. “Would that even be possible?” 

Before she could even open her mouth, Hilda answered. “I think it’s a marvelous idea.” 

Zelda gritted her teeth, did none of them understand the concept of the Path of Night or the Path of Light, but **not** both? But she could hardly bring up this as a point of argument with the boy right here. So, she’d have to appease them for the time being and then discuss this with Hilda and Sabrina later. “I do too,” she remarked, causing Sabrina to look at her in astonishment. “But why don’t we play it by ear, hmm?” She nodded at them and went to get ready for their clients, it was a busy day. 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

She’d seen the clients off and felt a wave of relief that she’d cleared the rest of their day so that she could run errands to prepare for the baptism. But first, she glanced out the window and sighed, _finally_ Hilda was out in the garden. 

Casting a quick spell on her clothes so as to not get any blood on them, Zelda headed outside, snatching a hammer from the toolbox on the porch as she went. “Sister?” She called out, only feeling the tiniest twinge of guilt for what she was about to do, especially when Hilda responded so cheerfully. 

“Oooh, Zelda!” She intoned, throwing some vegetables into her basket. “My turnips, they’re coming up marvelously this year." Hilda had barely finished her sentence and was turning to face her when Zelda cracked her across the face with the hammer. She’d made sure to put her body weight into it, one blow really was the most efficient and, if nothing else, Zelda was efficient. 

She waited a moment and made sure that Hilda wasn’t twitching or breathing. She’d made the mistake once, years ago, of not making sure Hilda was fully dead before burying her. Zelda hadn’t heard the end of _that_ for weeks. Reassured that her sister was indeed dead, Zelda smoothed her hair back and dropped the hammer before grabbing Hilda’s ankles and dragging her bodily to the Cain pit before shoveling dirt into the hole. Yes, she could have levitated her sister with a spell and buried her the same way. But the manual labor involved in killing Hilda was often a stress release in and of itself, as horrible and cruel as it may be. Besides, it was the least she could do after killing her. 

Zelda had just finished throwing the last shovels full of dirt onto the grave and was giving the mound of dirt a few last whacks with the shovel—for catharsis, when clients pulled up to see if their son was ready for his funeral. Zelda glanced at them, but knowing Ambrose was handling the account, stayed outside—in no mood to deal with more mortals today. 

“Hilda, I had hoped we would be going into Sabrina’s dark baptism as a unified front. Yet I find that you are telling our niece that you have regrets about signing, that we didn’t have choices back then—implying that she has one now. It is unacceptable. I am sorry it came to this… again. But you must learn, and I fear this is the only way I can safely teach you.” Zelda murmured, leaning on the shovel, slightly out of breath. She certainly couldn’t tell Hilda the truth as to why Sabrina had to sign, the danger their family had been in since the moment Edward proposed to Diana. Hopefully this, if nothing else, would get though to Hilda. 

She looked up when she heard the clients leaving, they wasted no time for pleasantries, just climbed into their car and drove away quickly as Zelda made her way back to the house, shovel perched on her shoulder. “What were the Kempers doing here?” Zelda called out, nearing the porch. 

Ambrose took a few more steps down the porch, “I invited them to inspect my handiwork on their son.” 

Zelda closed her eyes tightly for a moment, “Ambrose, you’re not meddling in mortal affairs again, are you?” She asked tiredly, really, she could only handle so much at a time with her family. And between Sabrina’s doubts, Hilda usurping her authority and now Ambrose’s meddling, Zelda wasn’t sure if she’d make it through this week. Her nephew made the argument that the corpse had in fact been a warlock, even had a familiar. Zelda shook her head minutely, she didn’t have time to play detective she had to things to prepare for Sabrina’s baptism. 

“Where’s Aunt Hilda?” Ambrose inquired, peering into the garden and seeing the abandoned basket and tools. 

Zelda lodged the shovel into the ground next to the porch steps. “She annoyed me, so I killed her and buried her in the yard.” She stated coolly, breezing past Ambrose to head into the house to collect what she needed before she left on her errands. She didn’t bother to look back at his expression, knowing it would be a disconcerted one. But, just as she couldn’t explain it to Hilda, Zelda couldn’t tell Ambrose the truth as to why she’d killed and buried her sister. Let him think her unbalanced and violent, that was better than the truth. 

Checking her purse to ensure she had the gift, Zelda grabbed her coat and marched back outside where Ambrose was still standing, dumbfounded. “I’ll be back later, I have errands to run. Call if you need anything.” And with that she teleported to the witch’s market. 

It was traditional, for a witch’s mother to give her a gift on the night of her dark baptism. Neither she nor Hilda had informed Sabrina of this, not wanting to rub salt into a wound that would never fully heal. But Zelda also couldn’t bear the thought of not getting her girl something to commemorate the occasion. So, she had carefully wrapped up a necklace that Zelda’s own mother had given her after her dark baptism and tucked it into her purse to bring to the jewelers for a touch up. 

Zelda knew the spells required to do it herself, but she’d never quite gotten the hang of domestic spells—something always turned out wrong; to her mortification. So she’d stopped trying. Besides, if she messed up this particular spell it could irreversibly damage the necklace, regardless of the spells placed on it that had allowed it to be passed down through the Spellman generations. That was not something she was going to risk. 

When she’d handed over the box, the witch’s eyes had gone wide. “What a lovely necklace. Do you need it for a special event?” She asked, carefully placing the piece on the counter for inspection. 

“My niece, Sabrina, her dark baptism is tomorrow night. I plan to give this to her after. I just need it shined and retouched where needed. Can you do that?” 

The witch nodded, “of course. And congratulations, what an exciting time… and on an eclipsed blood moon, no less. What good fortune.” 

“Agreed.” Zelda replied curtly, now if only Sabrina felt the same—even to a small degree. “When will this be ready?” 

The woman eyed the necklace, “in thirty minutes. You can browse around while you wait.” She offered before taking the necklace and disappearing into the back of the store. Zelda arched a brow, knowing the spells did not take that long, but she supposed the owner hoped she’d buy something if she was forced to wait. No matter, she needed to purchase some more candles while she was out. 

When she returned to the store, she found the witch more than a little disappointed that Zelda didn’t want to buy anything else. But she handed over the necklace, neatly packaged in a new velvet box and Zelda smiled, it was perfect. She thanked the witch, tipped her generously and made her way home. 

She checked the Cain pit on her way up the drive, the soil was still undisturbed, which meant Hilda hadn’t resurrected yet. Her sister was taking longer and longer to come back, it really was irksome. But Zelda had prepared for this and knew what she would make Sabrina and Ambrose for dinner. 

Though most of her attempts at cooking ended in failure, Zelda was quite good at making a select few dishes, one of which she made tonight. Sabrina arrive home late, claiming she been working on an extra credit project for school. Zelda narrowed her eyes, sensing the magic surrounding her niece and knowing not all of it was hers. But she left the matter alone, her niece had at least been off doing something magical, which was far better than her being off with Harvey once more. 

Sabrina and Ambrose were off to their respective rooms after dinner and Zelda grabbed a book and several cigarettes before heading outside to sit on the back porch. She wanted to intercept Hilda after she resurrected, they needed to talk, after all. 

It was another thirty minutes before Zelda could make out the rasping breath of her newly revived sister and her halting steps across the gravel near the house. She closed her book and set it aside once Hilda got close enough. 

“Zelda…” came a hoarse whisper. 

“Took you long enough,” she quipped, glancing over to where Hilda’s form appeared from the gloom. “Each slaying it takes you longer to resurrect.” Though Zelda knew her sister was aware of this fact, she felt the need to drive it home. Pushing herself out of her chair to come and stand at the railing, Zelda eyed Hilda. “Eventually, there will come a time when I bury you and you will stay buried.” 

Hilda gasped and made her way closer. “You can’t keep killing me.” She managed breathily, short bursts of air escaping her between each word. 

Zelda rolled her eyes, it wasn’t really killing when the person came back. “I’m your older sister, Hilda. It is my Satan given right to kill you as many times as I please. **Especially** when you’re behaving so stupidly. Encouraging Sabrina to do _anything_ other than join the Church of Night.” She gripped the railing tighter as fear of the potential consequences of that hypothetical situation washed over her. “Edward entrusted her to _our_ care. If Sabrina does not sign her name in the Book of Beast, we will have…” and the words caught in her throat for a moment. “Failed him,” she managed, swallowing hard at the thought. “And the Dark Lord,” she added for effect. 

Straightening her shoulders, Zelda looked at Hilda once more. “So, fair warning, sister. Any doubts or regrets you feel… keep them to **yourself**. The simple truth is Sabrina has no choice in this matter. To pretend otherwise is reckless.” She paused, she hadn’t initially planned on telling Hilda this much, but she had to give her something to try and convey the gravity of the situation. “Have I made myself clear?” 

Hilda was breathing heavily, and for a moment Zelda thought she might argue with her. But then the fight went out of her, a small, “yes, sister” fell from Hilda’s lips. 

Sighing, Zelda nodded and headed inside to sleep. It had been a long, busy day and tomorrow would be no better. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was here. Sabrina’s sixteenth birthday, her dark baptism. It was here. Zelda’s nerves were practically singing, she was equally anxious and excited for this entire thing to be done and over with, perhaps then some steps could be taken to repair the bond she’d once had with her niece. Surely, she wouldn’t have to keep saying no once Sabrina had signed and fully entered the witching realm. 

Zelda wasn’t exactly surprised when Sabrina protested about staying home for the day. Yes, it was true that many witches and warlocks did spend the day in quiet contemplation and reading their Satanic scriptures as she’d told Sabrina. But Zelda also wasn’t sure what her niece would do given one last day in the mortal realm, so she’d decided not to take the chance and called the school to tell them Sabrina wouldn’t be coming today because of a hives outbreak. She’d also instructed Ambrose to keep an eye on his cousin while she and Hilda were out making the final preparations for the baptism. 

Soon, she inhaled deeply, soon.

They’d arrived in the woods after picking up the black narcissus goat. Zelda was leading the creature while Hilda trailed behind her carrying two bags full of other materials they needed to set up. Zelda stumbled a bit when she realized Faustus was already in the clearing, well him and several acolytes. He was teaching them about the proper preparation for a dark baptism, especially one during an eclipse and blood moon. When he caught sight of them, however, he paused and smiled. 

“Continue setting up,” he instructed, his eyes still on Zelda as his students scurried away to fulfill his orders. “Sister Zelda, Sister Hilda,” he murmured, nodding at each of them. “What a glorious day for a dark baptism, wouldn’t you agree?” 

Zelda smiled in acknowledgement and bowed her head slightly in return. “Father Blackwood, we most certainly agree.” She stated, moving forward and tying the goat to the stake already pounded into the ground. 

Each of them then moved around the clearing, preparing for different aspects of the ritual. It wasn’t until Hilda made the excuse of going to get more candles that Zelda looked up from where she was spacing the torches and discovered that the acolytes had disappeared as well; leaving just her and Faustus. 

She cursed under her breath, it was just like Hilda to leave her like this. They had half a bag left of candles sitting on the ground—there’d been no reason for Hilda to leave. Why her sister still insisted on pushing her towards the high priest she did not know, though with all the preparations still being made perhaps she could avoid any awkward or painful topics. 

But she’d worried for nothing, she’d forgotten how easy it was to talk to him. About everything from spells they were each tinkering with, to work, mutual friends and the coven. Faustus was in the middle of sharing a story of a fight he’d had to break up at the academy, Zelda was nearly in stitches she was laughing so hard at his retelling, when the others returned. 

A flash of disappointment went through her, she’d rather enjoyed the last two hours she’d spent talking and laughing with Faustus. It reminded her of old times, before she’d run. But it was getting dark and there was nothing left to do but get themselves ready and wait. Zelda thanked him for his help and murmured that she would see him soon. Faustus had smiled softly at her and nodded, baying her goodbye as well as he left, his acolytes trailing after him like ducklings. 

~~~~~~~~~~

 **11:30** Zelda knew that she and Hilda had arrived early, Sabrina didn’t technically need to be there until midnight exactly. Still, the fact that her niece wasn’t in the clearing had anxiety itching up Zelda’s spine. 

**11:45** and Sabrina still wasn’t there, other coven members had arrived and were standing in small groups, chatting. They clearly thought Sabrina was trying to make a dramatic entrance—most witches did these days, it was a ‘thing’ now to do something over the top when arriving at one’s dark baptism. Not that Sabrina knew this, but it at least removed some scrutiny from her and Hilda that their niece wasn’t there yet. 

**11:57** Sabrina should have been there by now, should have already made her way through the woods and into the clearing…where was she? Zelda gnawed on the inside of her lip so as to not ruin her makeup. 

**12:02** Beelzebub help her, how could Sabrina be late, tonight of all nights?! Zelda wanted to pace, to smoke, to scream. Instead she crossed her arms to hide how she was nervously spinning her rings. They were so close to being free from Edward’s price completely and Sabrina was late. Ambrose was supposed to make sure that she left the house on time. Well, he very well could have ushered Sabrina out on time, Satan knew, though, that he couldn’t control what Sabrina did once she’d left it. 

Zelda felt nauseous. She should have stayed behind, helped Sabrina get ready, walked her to the clearing. It went against tradition, which was why she hadn’t done just that in the first place. But considering their current circumstance… maybe that particular tradition should have been bypassed. She was contemplating how she could get away with astral projecting to find out exactly where her wayward niece was when a gust of wind shot through the clearing and blue flames licked up the branches of the main entry way. She hadn’t realized how rigidly she’d been holding herself until her entire body practically sagged against Hilda’s next to her when Sabrina finally made her appearance. But Zelda made sure her utter relief didn’t show externally, it wouldn’t do for the coven to notice that she’d doubted Sabrina might come. 

Faustus took it all in stride, acted as though nothing was remiss and started the ceremony immediately, for which Zelda was immensely grateful. 

When he asked who presented Sabrina for her unholy baptism, she and Hilda responded in unison. “We do, Your Excellency.” 

And Zelda couldn’t restrain the remonstration on her lips. “Late to your own baptism, honestly.” She hissed quietly so that the others couldn’t hear, though her eyes flickered over the crowd all the same. Hoping that they took this as a sign of teenage dramatics and not any reluctance on Sabrina’s part. They didn’t need the coven doubting their faith and loyalty. 

Her body was almost vibrating from adrenaline as the rite of passage proceeded, as Sabrina stood to sign. Zelda could already feel the weight of Edward’s price beginning to lift from her shoulders. She winced slightly when Sabrina’s hand was cut, it was part of the ritual and Zelda had anticipated it, but Sabrina’s pained gasp made her press her lips together all the same. 

Then, then Sabrina hesitated. Exclaimed in a horrified whisper that the words tumbling from Faustus’ mouth did not match the ones he’d said before. And she was right, but these were just words, no witch that Zelda had ever known had truly been held accountable to the vow they made when signing the book. There were few occasions when they had to follow whatever their high priest said, but those instructions had always aligned with what was best for them and the coven. Zelda had thought Sabrina understood that when Faustus explained it all the other night, that this was symbolic. 

Apparently not. Sabrina dropped the pen and pulled away, breath coming in rapid bursts. “I can’t do this.” She murmured. 

“No,” Zelda breathed, so softly that no one was able to hear how shattered one syllable could sound. Her mind flitting back to almost sixteen years ago when Sabrina was just a babe. How she’d wanted to knock the pen from Edward’s hand, snatch her niece from the alter and run from this very spot. How now she wanted anything but. The safety of her niece, her entire family, depended on Sabrina signing the book. 

“You must.” Faustus insisted, picking up the pen to hand to her once more. But Sabrina backed further away from the table. 

Zelda took a small step forward, “Sabrina,” and the girl whipped around to face her, expression slightly wild. “ _Don’t you dare._ ” Her eyes widened for emphasis, and she blinked several times to hide the fact that tears were threatening to gather there. 

But Sabrina just shook her head, “I’m sorry, aunties.” She stated before she ran. Zelda’s heart stuttered and dropped, her mind trying to come up with a solution, but it was as if the gears had been jammed. 

Only when she heard Faustus utter, “get her,” did Zelda’s mind kick back into action as the woods around them came alive. 

Hints of red bordered her vision, they would **not** hurt her girl. Zelda glanced around and made a tiny, subtle flick of her wrist and the other spells filling the air, trying to pull her niece back, were weakened. Weakened just enough for Sabrina to pull free and make it out of the woods. 

Though Zelda knew Sabrina needed to sign the Book of Beasts she wasn’t going to let the coven drag her girl through the woods and force her to sign. She had seen what happened to witches that were forced to sign against their will. They still received more power, but the price was higher. They often struggled with spells, hexes and curses could backfire, it was as if Satan was punishing them for their resistance. Zelda wouldn’t resign Sabrina to that fate. 

They followed Sabrina, trekking through the woods and back to the house. Zelda just hoped that Sabrina had enough time to reach the boundaries before they caught up… the roots would’ve taken away whatever head start she’d managed to get. Just as they exited the trees, Zelda stifled a sigh of relief. She had just felt Sabrina pass over the magical boundaries of the Spellman property. 

“I will not!” Sabrina declared, when Faustus told her that she needed to sign while the blood moon still shone. Zelda clutched the folds of her dress tightly as she pushed to the front of the crowd, a cold sweat breaking out on her brow that had nothing to do with their quick chase through the woods. “There is another path for me, just as there was for my father and mother. A third way.” 

Zelda’s steps faltered at the assertion. No, no, no. The third way existed, yes. But the third way was death. Before she could regain herself, Faustus and the weird sisters made to grab Sabrina once more. Zelda felt as though she were in a dream and everything she did was in slow motion, she couldn’t form words, couldn’t move her hands to cast a spell—she watched horrified as the coven approached Sabrina. 

Thankfully, Ambrose was outside and had his wits about him. He was shouting about protection spells in place that certainly were not. But the coven hesitated, clearly sensing spells surrounding the property and remembering what happened to the last witches who’d attempted to enter unwanted. They stopped and then moved away, already gossiping about the scandal as they teleported away in small groups. 

Faustus was following suit when he paused next to Zelda, facing the opposite direction. Hilda took one look at their faces and scurried ahead, taking Sabrina by the arm and guiding her to the house. Faustus waited until the others were out of hearing distance before speaking. 

“Zelda…” he murmured, taking her hand and gripping it a little roughly. “She needs to sign. The Dark Lord—” 

“I know.” She snapped quietly, eyes following Sabrina’s form as it darted inside, followed by Hilda. “I know,” she repeated much more softly. 

He squeezed her hand and rubbed his thumb along the back of it so she would look at him. When she met his eyes, there was concern there. “The Dark Lord does not like to be rejected. He will likely lash out. You could,” Faustus cleared his throat. “Your entire family,” he amended, “could be at risk.” 

Zelda looked back at the house where her family currently hid, “I’m well aware.” She retorted, eyes drifting over to the general vicinity of Edward’s grave. Yes, she was certainly aware of what the Dark Lord was capable of. “What can I do?” She whispered, bringing her eyes back to his in a silent plea for help. 

“Try and talk to her. If you can get her to sign the book this weekend you may just get by unscathed.” 

Pressing her lips together, Zelda nodded. “I’ll do everything I can.” 

“I know,” Faustus replied before kissing her temple and squeezing her hand once more before teleporting away. 

Her hand came up to touch where his lips had landed as she made her way back to the house. But she quickly shook herself, there were _far_ bigger and more important matters to think about than a chaste kiss on the head. 

Zelda took a shuddering breath as she closed the front doors behind her. She would talk to Sabrina in the morning, likely anything she said would have no impact against the high Sabrina currently was on from running. Besides, she had no idea what to say to the girl. 

First, though, she needed to adjust the spells around the house. Satan knew what some of the witches might try to do now that Sabrina had not only the audacity to be half-witch, half-mortal, but also the audacity to reject her dark baptism. If they’d thought her a threat before…. Zelda swallowed hard and made her way upstairs to Ambrose’s room. 

She knocked tersely on the door as she entered, not wanting to waste any time, petrified that her current spells wouldn’t be enough. Ambrose gifted her with a small smile and a nod as she sat down and pulled a book towards her wordlessly, before continuing his own research on how to revamp the spells around the house given his bold claim. 

They worked for several hours, only breaking the silence to ask quick questions and double check they weren’t working on the same spells. When they finished, Zelda squeezed Ambrose’s shoulder in thanks and made her way downstairs. 

Zelda made a quick detour into her and Hilda’s bedroom, careful not to wake her sister, and then continued down to the morgue. She’d failed Edward. Broken her promise and she wasn’t sure what would happen, but she knew she’d have to shield her family from the fall out as best as she could. 

But before she could do that, she needed to be punished for her incompetence. For her failure. The coven would talk. Not only about Sabrina running and shouting at the top of her lungs that she wouldn’t sign, but also about how Zelda Spellman hadn’t raised her niece properly. How Zelda Spellman hadn’t instilled in her niece the faith she should have in their Dark Lord, and did this mean she no longer believed? 

How could she have failed on so many levels tonight? Zelda shed her jacket and her dress, folding them neatly before she began to whip herself, arm moving mechanically to alternate sides and vary the height of where the whip made contact. She made it to fifty lashes before she stopped, breathing harshly and grimacing at each movement. But it wasn’t anything she hadn’t deserved. Truly, she deserved far worse for what had happened, or what had failed to happen.

Gingerly, Zelda waved a hand so that she was dressed in her nightgown and robe before moving to pick up her other clothes. It was then that the small package fell from her jacket pocket. Tears collected in her eyes once more, it was the necklace she’d intended to give to Sabrina after the baptism. She’d even had a little speech ready, had planned on going to Sabrina’s room after they returned and sit with her on the bed. 

Zelda would have explained that the necklace had belonged to her mother and that she had given it to Zelda on the night of her unholy baptism. That it had been in the family for generations and she wanted Sabrina to have it. How Sabrina had part of Diana, by taking her name in her baptism, and now a part of the Spellman family as a whole as well. Zelda had wanted to say she would now have a piece of her biological mother and her adoptive mother, but she knew that wouldn’t have gone over well—because Sabrina didn’t see her as a mother. But the gesture, the passing down of a family heirloom, would've been one reminiscent of a mother-daughter relationship in Zelda's eyes. 

Blinking back the tears, Zelda picked up the necklace and vanished it into her trunk along with the flog, no need for anyone to find evidence of either of the items. It was very late, and Zelda knew she should go to bed… but she still needed to figure out what she’d say to Sabrina to convince her to sign. 

Running a weary hand over her face, Zelda decided that it could wait until morning. It was only a few hours away anyway, what difference would it make if she took the morning to figure out how she’d talk to Sabrina? None, she determined, trudging up the stairs, she’d take the morning and then talk to Sabrina about the events in the afternoon. 

Yes, Zelda thought, dumping her clothes on top of her vanity and all but collapsing into her bed, that could work.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight fudging of the timeline—nothing big, just changing when Zelda talked to Sabrina about her baptism. I may also jump to another POV briefly... just saying :)

Only she’d slept through the morning. She hadn’t given herself fifty lashes in a long time, that combined with the late hour she’d gone to bed… it had taken far more out of her than she’d realized. It was already 10am when she woke up and made her way downstairs, albeit a little stiffly from her injuries. 

“Where is Sabrina?” She questioned Hilda tiredly, slumping into her spot at the kitchen table. 

Hilda eyed her, brow furrowed, “outside, doing her homework.” 

Zelda nodded and lit a cigarette, “alright, have you spoken to her yet? About last night?” 

Shaking her head, Hilda began to fuss with the knife she’d been using to chop vegetables. “No, I thought you might want to.” 

“You thought right,” she replied, taking a long, deep drag of nicotine. “But I need to figure out how to say it first. I’ll be in the study if you need me.” She rose heavily from the chair and made her way to the office they normally used for meetings with families about funeral arrangements. 

“Zelds, wait! Don’t you want to eat something?” Hilda called after her anxiously. 

She shook her head, “no, thank you, Hilda. I have no appetite.” She then left the kitchen and shut herself in the office for the rest of the day, attempting to figure out how to talk to Sabrina. 

How she was supposed to talk the girl into signing the Book of the Beast before the end of the weekend Zelda hadn’t a clue. She clearly hadn’t been able to convince her niece to go through with the ritual to begin with, now that she’d run from it how was Zelda to change her mind? 

There was always the truth, she supposed, lighting another cigarette and propping her feet up on one of the extra chairs. She could tell Sabrina about what Edward had done. That her name was already in the book so signing again really didn’t mean much of anything. That Edward had been killed because he defied, tested and denied the Dark Lord and Sabrina may face the same fate if she continued this little rebellion. 

But to even consider that route was ludicrous. She couldn’t tell Sabrina the truth without pushing her niece further away—if the girl had thought a family member being threatened with excommunication was reason enough not to join the church, Zelda couldn’t imagine what her niece would do at the mention of murder. Besides, that was a heavy burden to bear, as she well knew, she wouldn’t put that on Sabrina’s shoulders, not when there might still be another way. 

Zelda extinguished her cigarette impatiently and began to pace the room, spinning her rings, hoping the movement would jog something loose in her brain on how to talk to Sabrina. For the next several hours she alternated between pacing and tipping back in the chair and staring at the ceiling, discarding ideas as quickly as they came. She was lucky to have a bit of inspiration right before dinner and her next bout of pacing, otherwise she likely would have worn a hole in the floor. 

Quickly pulling out some paper, Zelda began to jot down ideas and attempted to put them in a coherent order. It had occurred to her that Sabrina had been willing to participate until the ceremonial words differed from what Faustus had told her the other night. 

All Zelda needed to do was explain that those words were from the original texts, that they hadn’t been changed since the very first witch had her dark baptism. That those words were once taken at face value, but not anymore, and they actually were the symbolic gesture Faustus had presented them to be. That she, Hilda, Ambrose and countless others had signed as those same words were spoken and none of them had been called to service. It was merely tradition to use the old words. Sighing in relief, Zelda rested her head in her hands for a moment, content that she at least had a plan of approach if not her entire interaction with Sabrina planned out. Why she hadn't thought of this the first hundred times she'd replayed the night in her head, she wasn't sure, but at least she'd thought of it. 

Dropping her pen, Zelda sat back and it felt as though the weight Edward had forced upon her, the one that had begun to lift during the dark baptism only to slam back down heavier than before when Sabrina ran, was starting to lift again. If she could just get Sabrina to listen to her, really listen, Zelda knew she could convince her niece to sign. Glancing at the clock, Zelda realized that it was nearly eight at night and she hadn’t eaten anything all day. 

She crept out of the office and was relieved to see that not one of her family members were in sight. Zelda opened the refrigerator and found a wrapped plate with her name written on the top, a small smile touched her lips at the gesture. Hilda looking out for her even when it wasn’t needed. Taking the plate, Zelda ate in peace and enjoyed some tea, rearranging the words in her head for when she went up to talk to Sabrina after she ate. 

Only, only when she reached Sabrina’s room after clearing her dinner, Sabrina wasn’t there. Zelda hurried to her bedroom and found Hilda reading. 

“Where is Sabrina?” She demanded, one hand on the door knob and the other the frame. 

Hilda’s grip on her book tightened slightly, “out bowling with her friends… Harvey did come over and ask and we both agreed…” 

Zelda was surprised she didn’t see the back of her skull with how hard she rolled her eyes, the goodwill she’d felt towards her sister for saving her a meal evaporated. “That was _before_ she ran from her dark baptism, Hilda. And you know full well that I only agreed to it so that Harvey would leave before the York family showed up with all of their familiars in tow. Had Sabrina signed as she was supposed to she would have had to cut contact with her mortal friends, **as you well know.** ” She finished loudly and a little breathlessly. Why did Hilda insist on allowing Sabrina to do as she pleased? Why was Zelda the only one to say no? 

Looking flustered, Hilda began to apologize. “I’m sorry Zelda, but we hadn’t seen you all day. It seemed like it might be good for us to give you space…” 

“Space, yes, space was fine. Space was not coming to bother me about eating or my blood pressure. This, letting Sabrina go out with her mortal friends right after she denied her dark baptism and the Dark Lord, that is not space, sister.” Zelda speared her hands through her hair frustrated beyond belief. “That is reckless and flaunting her decision in the Dark Lord’s face.” Shaking her head, Zelda began to savagely tug off her rings. She’d been ready to speak to Sabrina, had felt confident they’d come to an understanding and now the moment was gone. Grumbling to herself, Zelda dropping the rings with a little more force than necessary. 

“I could call her back…” Hilda offered meekly, and Zelda didn’t miss in the mirror’s reflection how her sister’s shoulders began to hunch in anticipation of a trip to the Cain pit. But Zelda was exhausted, and her back ached horribly, she didn’t have it in her to bludgeon Hilda and then drag her outside to bury. Exhaling slowly, Zelda simply readied herself for bed. 

A few minutes later Hilda said something else that Zelda didn’t catch, she’d been too focused on changing without letting Hilda see her back and what she’d done. “What?” She turned and grabbed the pillows off her bed. 

Shifting a little uncomfortably, “I said, you know Sabrina gets her independence and stubbornness from you.” Hilda raised a tentative brow at her. 

“I beg your pardon?” Zelda narrowed her eyes, grip tightening on her comforter. 

“It’s not a bad thing!” Hilda was quick to add. “Sabrina’s watched you run everything all these years, seen how independent you are, how you fight for what you’ve set your mind on. Is it really any wonder that she wants to be the same?” 

Scoffing, Zelda climbed into bed and fought a grimace when her back brushed against the headboard. Though she was immensely pleased that Hilda thought Sabrina had inherited anything from her, now was certainly the most inopportune moment for those traits to fully manifest themselves. 

Deciding that another topic might be best, Hilda tried again. “Did you figure out what you’re going to say to Sabrina?” 

“Yes, though I had hoped to do that tonight.” She replied with a slightly frosty tone. “I just don’t want to mess it up and end up pushing her further away…. Sabrina _needs_ to sign, Hilda. She needs to.” Zelda finished much more softly than she intended, and she hated how desperate she sounded. 

Hilda nodded and gave her a slightly sympathetic smile. “How about, we do it at dinner tomorrow? Gives you a chance to regather your thoughts and we’ll all be there to help should you need it.” 

Zelda wanted to decline, she’d intended on speaking to Sabrina alone, she felt less inclined to have to be so strong and in charge when it was just one family member then when the entire family was present. But perhaps Hilda was onto something. Zelda knew she could be abrasive, having Hilda there to help smooth things over could be beneficial. “Alright,” she muttered, carefully sliding down into bed and turning onto her side to face Hilda. “Tomorrow at dinner it is. Damned dreams, Hilda.” 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

They’d made it to Sunday dinner without incident… though that was likely because Zelda had done her damnedest to avoid Sabrina, and, when she couldn’t, she simply didn’t speak to her niece. It was far from the mature thing to do, but Zelda wanted to make sure that she didn’t make things worse by trying to talk to Sabrina before she had her speech ready. 

Of course, it didn’t go as planned. 

Why? Why couldn’t she have dropped the devout act for once and had an actual conversation with her niece? She’d had a plan. A plan to reason with Sabrina and help her understand that it wasn’t as daunting as it all seemed, that they hadn’t lied to her, not completely. But she hadn’t been ready, not when Sabrina poked her head around Zelda’s newspaper and asked if she’d ever speak to her again. Zelda had still been constructing sentences and playing out scenarios in her head, and Sabrina had caught her off guard. 

So, Zelda had fallen back on all she’d known for the past ten years, her role as the disciplinarian aunt, the one who cared for their standing within the coven and the Dark Lord above almost all else. And Satan, how she’d made things worse. 

And now, on top of everything, Sabrina was claiming to have seen visions of her parents the night of the baptism, stating that they’d told her to run, that this meant it wasn’t her father’s wish that she sign the book. Zelda wanted to shout that Edward had already signed his daughter’s name and then begged his sister to make sure that Sabrina did the same when she came of age. That whatever nonsense she had seen was most certainly not her parents. 

But the words stuck, as the truth always did. Zelda merely shook her head, confounded as to how to turn this conversation around and salvage it. But she’d already caused too much damage and with this new ‘vision’ aspect to contend with, well, she needed a new plan of attack. Sighing, Zelda folded her paper and went back to the office to think, ignoring Hilda calling after her about food. 

Zelda still hadn’t figured out a new approach by morning, so it was just as well that Sabrina left for school in a hurry. Grabbing some toast and bolting out the door without so much as a word. Sighing quietly in relief, Zelda folded the paper and left the table once more, taking her tea with her. Thankfully they didn’t have any clients that day, so she’d have some more uninterrupted time to collect herself. 

She would have to talk to Sabrina when she got home from school, she was already out of time as it was. Zelda would try the one-on-one approach she’d initially hoped for. Maybe then she could explain that Edward had explicitly asked her to make sure Sabrina signed and became a full witch. That is truly was his wish and whatever Sabrina had seen that night in the woods was just a manifestation of her nerves about signing and not an indication that her parents wanted her to run. Triumphantly dropping her pen, Zelda lit a celebratory cigarette. Now that she’d figured out how to talk to Sabrina all there was to do was wait, it was only an hour until Sabrina was due home. 

The moment of victory was short lived. 

A knock on the front door had Zelda furrowing her brows and stubbing out her cigarette to go answer it. Faustus was on the other side, looking more than a little harried. “Faustus, what—?” 

He held up an ancient looking envelope, the letters ‘Infernal Summons’ stamped on the outside. Zelda swallowed hard and grabbed his arm to pull him into the office, not sparing a glance in Hilda’s direction when her head popped out of the kitchen. 

“A trial?” She hissed anxiously as the door swung shut behind her. Zelda snatched the summons from him and began to scan it. “I thought I’d have more time to get Sabrina to sign. I know you said this weekend was preferable, but it’s only Monday.” Zelda forced herself to stand still, though she desperately wanted to pace, she put the document down and settled for spinning her rings. “Besides, Sabrina is hardly the first witch to not sign the book on her birthday, why is a trial for Breach of Promise suddenly the recourse for—” 

Faustus cut in, “the Dark Lord is especially impatient, he did not want to wait. I could not persuade him otherwise. He, he also demands that the family responsible for the truant child forfeit their powers.” He added the last part quickly, as if saying it faster would make it more bearable. 

Zelda blanched, “surely, that’s not necessary.” 

“Zelda,” Faustus interrupted softly, taking a step closer. “It’s not up to me. None of it is. I tried, but… you know how demanding our Dark Lord is. How, _convincing_ ,” and he shifted uncomfortably, adjusting his collar; making Zelda wonder what ways the Dark Lord had used to ‘convince’ Faustus that a full-blown criminal trial was necessary. Because Faustus certainly didn’t seem keen on the idea. A trial, especially one like this, was public, made news and didn’t show him, as a high priest, in a good light. The fact that they’d had to resort to a trial to get a child to sign… it implied that his guidance wasn’t enough, that faith in his coven was faltering; something all high priests strove to avoid like the plague. 

So, it was out of both of their hands then. Pinching the inside of her arm to improve her focus, Zelda turned her attention back to the warlock in front of her. “When do we lose them?” 

He gave her an apologetic look, “I’m supposed to remove them before I leave here today.” 

The words thudded into her, and Zelda sat abruptly on the edge of the desk, a hand on her forehead. “All of us?” 

“Just you and Hilda,” he clarified. “Ambrose is housebound and not seen as a threat. And Sabrina, though now of age, has not signed yet and so is still considered a minor in this matter—and minors are not stripped of their powers during trials, as you know.” 

She pinched the inside of her arm again, trying to ground herself and slow the pounding of her heart. “When will we get them back?” 

As if sensing her internal panic, Faustus took a step forward and gently ran his hands along her upper arms comfortingly. “When the trial comes to a conclusion that the Dark Lord is pleased with.” 

A shuddering breath escaped her, “with Sabrina’s obstinance? I’m not sure how likely that will be.” Zelda turned her head to look at the wall to hide the shining in her eyes. She’d known. Known back when Edward first broke witching law that the family would not be exempt from the Dark Lord’s wrath. She just had the timing wrong. Now she and Hilda would be powerless, and Ambrose still couldn’t leave the grounds… how were any of them to protect Sabrina? 

“Zels, without your powers, you and Hilda will begin to age… rather rapidly.” He added quietly, as if trying to reduce the sting of the salt in the wound. 

She just waved a hand dismissively, that was the least of her concerns. Yes, it would bother her immensely that she would age, she took pride in her appearance, but the danger they were now all in was far more pressing. They were vulnerable without their powers and if there was anything that Zelda hated, it was being vulnerable. 

“How is it done?” She brought her gaze back to him and was startled to realize how close he was standing, how the warmth of his hands seeped through the sleeves of her dress… she was certainly beyond stressed if it had taken her this long to notice such things. 

“I will make it painless. But I need a tooth.” 

Zelda blinked, “a tooth.” She repeated flatly, brow lifting. 

Faustus inched closer, “it is said that our powers reside within the very marrow of our bones.” He lifted a finger and traced her cheek bone and along her jaw—she barely suppressed a shiver in response to his touch. “To strip a witch of her power, you need to contain it within a bone… and a tooth really is the most convenient and least painful option.” He concluded logically, letting his hand fall from her jaw back to her arm. 

She nodded, “do you need one from each of us?” Practical, if she just focused on the practical aspects of this whole ordeal maybe she could hide the anxiety that was eating away at her. 

“No, just one of you. I can contain your and Hilda’s powers within one tooth.” 

“Do,” Zelda exhaled, “do you take the tooth with you?” She hated the idea. Losing her powers was one thing, not having possession of what they were trapped in was another level of vulnerability she wasn’t sure she could handle. 

Faustus shook his head, “you keep it. You won’t be able to do anything with it, but it will remain with you.” He looked at her sympathetically and she certainly couldn’t handle that at the moment, his softness. 

So, Zelda grabbed the summons, pushed off the desk and brushed past him as she made her way to the door. “Alright. Let’s get it over with then.” She stated briskly, making her way to the kitchen where she knew the others were impatiently waiting, Faustus trailing behind her. 

Without preamble, Zelda turned to Hilda. “Father Blackwood needs one of your teeth.” 

“What?!” Hilda asked incredulously, looking between the two of them, “why?” Ambrose watched all of this silently, but his expressive brows were furrowed in confusion when he turned to look at Zelda as well. 

Seeing no use in mincing words, Zelda dropped the summons on the table and explained the situation bluntly. “We are to be stripped of our powers for the duration of Sabrina’s trial. They must be contained within a bone of one of the witches losing their abilities. We will remain in possession of the tooth but will be unable to restore our own powers until a, hopefully, positive outcome.” 

Hilda blinked, clearly as stunned by this turn of events as Zelda had been. But her sister merely swallowed back her questions, saving them for later. “Oh,” Hilda sighed, running her tongue over her teeth. “Alright then, get it done.” She sat on a stool and looked at Faustus expectantly. 

Taken aback by her immediate acceptance of the situation, Faustus started forward. “This will not hurt,” he reassured, stepping forward and blocking Zelda’s view. A slight pop and a surprised gasp from Hilda the only indication that anything had been done. 

However, when he turned to face her, waving a hand over the tooth in his palm causing it to glow faintly, it felt as though her very essence had been sapped from her; leaving Zelda drained. She gripped the back of one of the kitchen chairs to steady herself and she noticed Hilda looked markedly paler as well. 

So, this is what it felt like, she thought wretchedly, having the magic that had sung through her for centuries ripped away. The vast, empty cavern opening inside her seemed limitless and Zelda knew then that she’d greatly underestimated how defenseless she would feel. 

Faustus’ words recaptured her attention. “Your powers will be released upon the conclusion of the trial, should the Dark Lord see it fit.” He restated, taking Zelda’s hand and pressing the tooth into it, curling her fingers over the small bone. “I will see you later.” He nodded and squeezed her hand before teleporting away. 

Zelda glanced at the tooth and automatically made to cast protective spells over the precious item, only to be met with the dark void that now roomed where her powers once had. Blinking rapidly to hide how distressed the sensation had made her, Zelda turned to Ambrose. 

“I need you to place every protection and tracking spell you can imagine on this.” She held up the tooth between her thumb and index finger. “You understand how valuable—” 

Ambrose nodded solemnly, for once he had no quip, seeming to understand the severity of their situation. 

Hilda stopped poking at the new hole in her mouth and brought her eyes to her sister. “Zelds, what are we going—” 

But the front door slamming shut cut her off. The trio turned to see Sabrina marching into the kitchen, a little green around the gills. 

“Aunt Zelda, Aunt Hilda. You’re _not_ gonna believe what happened today at school.” Their niece announced. 

Zelda wasn’t in any mood to hear about whatever mortal nonsense Sabrina wanted to share with them though. “Ohhh, I can imagine.” She cut her off and held up the subpoena for Sabrina to see. “Do you know what this is?” When Sabrina looked at her blankly, Zelda continued. “It’s an Infernal Summons.” 

“A what now?” Sabrina looked between the three of them for explanation. 

Hilda stepped forward, “well, you’ve been _charged_ with a rather antiquated offense, dearest. Breach of Promise.” How her sister could act so calmly Zelda didn’t understand. They were all in danger from Sabrina’s actions and now they were being called in front of the coven and the Dark Lord to stand trial for those actions… Satan knew what they’d potentially uncover in their pursuit of charging Sabrina. 

“ **You** made a promise to sign the Dark Lord’s Book of the Beast and then when you ran in horror from your dark baptism you broke it.” But, really, Edward had made that promise, as the Dark Lord well knew, but that didn’t matter in his eyes; what mattered was that Sabrina signed. So, she went on to explain that Sabrina had humiliated the Dark Lord in front of the coven so now she must be judged and tried in front of the entire coven. She placed the summons down for Sabrina to read. “Never in all my years, has a Spellman been summoned to the Court of Witches.” And damn her, why couldn’t Zelda just speak to her niece. Why couldn’t she have moved forward with her plan to speak with Sabrina alone? This role of strict aunt was a safety net that she was using far too often lately, and it only seemed to anger and push Sabrina away further. But with everything that was happening, Zelda saw no other course to take than the strict aunt. 

“I don’t understand. Someone is suing me?” 

Hilda placed a hand on Sabrina’s arm. “The Dark Lord. He’s determined to get you on the Path of Night.” She explained a little breathlessly, as shaken by this entire thing as Zelda—only she expressed it as nerves and not anger. 

Sabrina shook her head. “I saw him today, the Dark Lord.” Zelda’s heart stopped, no, no, no. The creature had **not** come near her girl. She stepped forward, eyes round and mouth slightly open as Sabrina continued to explain that the Dark Lord had possessed her principal and threatened her. 

Zelda bent over, twisting her lips and clutched the chair in front of her, fear crawling up the back of her throat. She turned to Hilda, “did you hear that, sister? Can you imagine how enraged he must be?” Enraged enough to force a trial for a charge that hadn’t been used in centuries… but was he enraged enough to kill? As he had been with Edward? 

“Well, it doesn’t matter! I **don’t** want to be a part of his coven, I don’t _want_ to set foot in the Academy of Unseen Arts, and I am _certainly_ not gonna stand trial.” Sabrina’s words sliced through her, this was everything she’d worked the past sixteen years to avoid. And now not only had she failed Edward in getting Sabrina to sign, she’d failed in protecting her niece from the Dark Lord’s attention as well. 

But she had to impress it upon Sabrina that she had no choice in the matter. “Oh, you most certainly are, Sabrina. You’ve been summoned.” How did she not understand this? Even in the mortal realm they had a similar system, one where you couldn’t refuse a summons; but Sabrina continued to walk away from her. “And not only you. Hilda and I as well. We’re on trial too.” That got Sabrina’s attention, she stopped and spun around, a look of confusion on her face. 

“That doesn’t make any sense…” Sabrina looked between her aunts. 

Twisting her fingers, Hilda approached Sabrina once more. “Well, we’re your legal guardians, lamb. So, in the eyes of the Court of Witches, your actions are our actions. We’re as guilty as you.” 

Shaking her head, Sabrina reentered the kitchen. “Don’t you mean innocent? Innocent until proven guilty?” Zelda bit the inside of her cheek, so now she chose to remember how certain courts of law worked. 

Ambrose spoke up for the first time, “that’s mortal law. Witch law is the complete opposite. Guilty until proven innocent.” 

As Ambrose spoke, Zelda dug the enchanted tooth out of her jacket where she’d hidden it; feeling far better with it on her person then leaving it anywhere in the house. “Do you know what this is?” She held up the small bone. “It’s your Aunt Hilda’s tooth. We have been _stripped_ of our powers.” Her voice was a little raw with emotion, but she didn’t try to rein it in. Sabrina needed to understand the gravity of the situation. “Which means we will age and rot, rapidly, until a verdict is reached. Your trial starts at midnight.” She informed Sabrina, placing the tooth on the table and her niece slowly turned away and walked up to her room. 

Zelda sat back down, her body trembling slightly from adrenaline. She didn’t mention how helpless being without their powers made them, how exposed they were to threats…. Satan knew there were some witches who’d like to take their revenge on Zelda for events that happened years ago. But she couldn’t warn her family of this danger without revealing the truth about what had really happened when those witches tried to break in, about what really had happened to Edward. So, she stayed silent until Ambrose stood and followed Sabrina upstairs, hopefully to talk some sense into her. 

Turning to Hilda, Zelda pressed her lips together. “You realize the seriousness of the situation, don’t you sister?” 

Hilda picked at her cuticles and nodded, “of course, I do Zelda. A, a trial? Perhaps there’s some way to prevent the whole thing from happening? Father Blackwood—” 

Zelda shook her head, “is an unwilling participant from all I could see. He couldn’t prevent the trial, Hilda.” 

“Prevent the summons and the charges, maybe not… but won’t he also be the prosecutor? Couldn’t we bargain with him? Get some sort of deal so we don’t even go to court?” Hilda looked at her anxiously and Zelda felt moronic for not making the same realization herself. 

She shot out of her chair, placing the tooth back inside her jacket. “Of course, Hilda you’re brilliant. I’ll go to the academy immediately, surely the Dark Lord wants a quick resolution. He may allow Faustus to bargain with us.” Zelda quickly left the room, grabbing the car keys as she left—already hating that she’d have to drive instead of teleport. 

~~~~~~~~ 

Why she hadn’t thought to ask for a deal when Faustus came to strip their powers Zelda didn’t know. She could blame it on the stress, her lack of sleep or how she’d skipped most of her meals the past several days—surviving on nicotine, tea and anxiety. Whatever the reason it no longer mattered. There was still time, still time to get rid of this whole mess before it truly got underway. 

Faustus didn’t want the trial either, she could put pressure on that aspect, hope that his own instinct for self-preservation aligned with Zelda’s instinct to protect her family—she thought her odds were good. She knocked on the door confidently and was pleased when the door swung open to admit her. If Faustus was surprised to see her, he didn’t show it, he remained seated behind his desk. 

“Zelda, what can I do for you?” 

Taking a seat, Zelda leaned forward a little. “You’re going to be the Dark Lord’s prosecutor, I imagine.” She wasted no time getting to the point, the trial was to take place in a matter of hours, there was no time to ease into the topic. 

He tilted his head in acknowledgement. “I don’t relish it, but that is one of my duties as high priest, yes.” 

Sighing in relief that she hadn’t come here for naught, Zelda continued. “Please, Faustus, Sabrina made a foolish, impetuous mistake. Couldn’t we settle this between ourselves? You, me, the Dark Lord? Without the _embarrassing_ spectacle of a public trial?” 

Faustus liked the idea, she could tell from the small twitch in his cheek, though the rest of his face gave nothing away. “The wheels of justice are already turning, Zelda.” He murmured, standing and rounding his desk. He came to a stop in front of her, brushing his thumb along the hand she had resting on the desk as he leaned against it. “However,… come tonight, with Sabrina.” He took her hand between his as he spoke, caressing her knuckles. “Have her admit her wrongdoing and beg for forgiveness, immediately. The Dark Lord is not without mercy. But he’ll require total submission from the girl.” 

And though she hated it, knew that the Dark Lord was, in fact, without mercy, she agreed. Because a submissive Sabrina was at least one that was alive. “And he shall have it. I promise you.” 

He looked at her more closely then, “poor Zelda,” he uttered, lifting a hand to skim over her cheek. “Already I see the ravages of age upon you.” While his words were playfully harsh, his touch was gentle and Zelda didn’t pull away when he buried his hand in her hair and pressed a firm, lingering kiss to her forehead. 

She couldn’t help how she turned her cheek into his hand when his lips pulled away, couldn’t help the heat that pooled in her stomach and worked its way lower. It was the most intimate touch they’d had since she’d run from him all those years ago in this very office. And it still had the same effect on her now as it did then. Damn him, she thought, though judging by the dilating of his pupils he felt it too. 

Where the moment would have taken them, Zelda would never find out. Because as he ran his hand through her hair, he’d always loved her hair, a lock of it came out, caught on one of his rings. Faustus had only sat there, stunned, and turned his hand slightly to examine the strands in baffled fascination. 

Horrified, Zelda stood quickly, not bothering to maintain her distance in her hurry to snatch the hair from his hand and hide it behind her back. “Thank you for your time, Faustus.” She murmured, grasping his hand as she turned and made a hasty retreat. Needing to save face, though, she paused at the door. “See you in court,” she stated, flipping her hair over her shoulder as if it hadn’t just betrayed her. 

In her rush to leave she missed the small, affectionate smile that touched Faustus’ lips and how he played with the few remaining hairs clinging to his hand before letting them fall to the floor. 

He waited a moment, until the door clicked shut behind Zelda, before addressing the presence he’d sensed several minutes ago—had Zelda not been so concerned for her niece she likely would’ve noticed as well. Or perhaps she had noticed but merely put it down to something at the academy—she wasn’t as used to the atmosphere as she once was. 

“I don’t enjoy being watched.” The shadow of a woman crept along his wall, finally making her presence visible. 

Lilith materialized in front of him, and he hid an eye roll by looking at his hands and brushing them together. The creature had come to him once before. When Sabrina had been questioning her path, it had been an introduction and nothing more. The demoness simply wanted to make him aware of her presence and that she was doing the Dark Lord’s work, and to warn him not to interfere with it. 

Now, her continued presence was a nuisance and her ability to spy on him in his own academy disconcerting. “The girl is my charge,” she drawled, walking slowly to behind his desk, trailing her hand along his belongings. “I can’t risk leaving her fate in… lesser hands.” 

Unable to resist exchanging a verbal jab of his own, Faustus countered. “And yet it is your own incompetence that has brought us to this moment.” 

She chuckled and prowled around his office, rambling about easing Sabrina to the altar, using a gentle touch and claiming that she’d done her job of getting Sabrina to the altar, he was the one who’d failed. When he argued that she methods were weak she sneered and threatened him, reminding him that she feasted on male flesh as she left. 

He found her attempt at intimidation lacking, and as though she sensed this she stopped at the door and eyed him. “Perhaps if you spent more time guiding the child instead of pining after her aunt we wouldn’t be here.” She remarked smugly and then took her leave before he could think of a retort. 

Scoffing, Faustus turned back to the materials on his desk, he didn’t ‘pine’ for anyone, let alone Zelda, though his eyes drifted involuntarily to the seat she'd recently occupied. Shaking his head, he refocused on preparing for the trial. Because while Zelda was certain she could get her niece to take the deal, he was less optimistic, Lilith’s words about not underestimating the teen echoing in his head. 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

Zelda took a deep breath as they exited the car and approached the church, she and Hilda both hiding under head scarves and sunglasses. Soon, this would be over in an hour, at most, there were the formalities to go through, certainly and that would take time. But they would leave here tonight with their powers restored and Sabrina having signed the book. She’d explained the deal to Sabrina on the ride over, though she may have left out the ‘total submission’ part, knowing that would have her niece jumping out of the vehicle faster than anything. 

She stopped right outside of the church doors and turned to face the others. “Remember, ladies, we carry ourselves with aplomb and dignity.” Just because they were here to technically beg did not mean they would do it without poise. “We admit out wrongs, accept our punishment and try and put this whole sordid mess behind us. Isn’t that right, Sabrina?” She turned to the girl and waited expectantly. 

“Do I have a choice?” Sabrina asked. 

“Not really, no.” Zelda replied bluntly, turning and once more heading to the church. 

As the proceedings began, Zelda watched everyone closely from behind her sunglasses. Making sure that no coven member tried to curse them while they sat powerless. It was only when Faustus proclaimed that Sabrina would spend 333 years in the burning Pits after she died that she sat up. He hadn’t mentioned that when they’d spoken earlier. He glanced at her apologetically, apparently, he’d been too lenient in the deal he’d offered before, and the Dark Lord demanded more. 

All things considered, however, the deal was still a fair one… though she loathed the thought of Sabrina in the Pit it was better than death. So, when Sabrina hesitated to enter her plea, Zelda leaned forward and mouthed to her ‘guilty’. 

But the doors banged open before Sabrina could answer and a man strode in, “she pleads **not** guilty.” 

Zelda’s heart dropped, no, no, no. This would only make things worse, and when she peeked at the high priest for his reaction, he had raised his eyes to the ceiling as if to beg for patience. How this man came to be here she did not know, but his presence would only anger the Dark Lord further. 

“Mr. Webster,” Faustus laughed in disbelief. “You are not unknown to this court, but you are unwelcome, sir, and uninvited.” 

Webster shook his head, “untrue, sir. Where my client goes, I follow.” 

Zelda swallowed hard, “client!?” She repeated, standing up and turning to her niece. “Sabrina?” 

“He’s my lawyer, Aunt Zelda.” Sabrina replied haughtily, not turning to meet her eyes. Gasps and side conversations broke out among the coven and the Infernal Three banged their gavel to regain order. A brief recess was given so that both sides could prepare… Zelda ushered her family outside and immediately began to pace, she could feel her blood pressure ratcheting up. 

She whipped off her sunglasses, “as if things weren’t dire enough, you go and hire this mortal pettifogger behind our backs.” 

Webster raised an eyebrow at her. “With all due respect, madam, I am well-versed in witch law.” 

“Oh, I know _exactly_ who you are, Mr. Webster. I remember you sniffing around my brother years ago. A hanger-on, dilettante.” Zelda spat back at him, this man could very well be the reason Edward thought it a good idea to bargain his child in return for marrying a mortal. She didn’t know for sure, but she knew the man’s reputation and wouldn’t put it past him—wouldn’t put it past him to try and make up for it now by representing her niece. 

Sabrina’s gazed switched between the two of them rapidly, “wait, you knew my father?” 

Webster nodded, “he’s the reason I came to Greendale. Your father taught me witch law, offered me comfort when there was none. He helped me out. I’d like to return the favor.” 

Before Zelda could cut in again, the church bell tolled, telling them they’d run out of time and had to return to the trial. She quickly replaced her sunglasses, hoping to hide the torrent of emotions she was sure her eyes would give away, and heading back indoors—knowing that Webster's acquaintance with Edward sealed the client contract in her niece’s eyes. 

The trial continued, Sabrina stood in front of the Infernal Three and the coven and gave testimony. Faustus was talented with words and soon riled up the audience to shouting at Sabrina, but Webster was equally talented, and Zelda felt a small spark of hope that perhaps this man’s presence hadn’t doomed them after all. 

But when Webster demanded evidence of the promise, of a contract, Faustus too happily produced the Book of the Beast and flipped it open. Zelda thought she might throw up, they’d found it. How? How had they even known to look? Had the Dark Lord been that intimately involved in the preparation for this trial? She turned her head, unable to watch what Sabrina’s reaction would be to this secret. This would condemn her girl faster than anything… and she’d helped do it. 

Then, then Faustus called her to the stand and Sabrina looked at her in confusion but relinquished her spot to allow Zelda up, a quiet, “Aunt Zelda, what’s happening?” Demanded of her as she reluctantly and shakily took her place, agitatedly smoothing the front of her coat. 

“Ms. Spellman,” Faustus began, and then softer, “Zelda, take us back to this date written here.” And she knew he was only doing what the Dark Lord commanded, but in that brief moment she hated him for making her do this. 

Zelda kept her sunglasses in place, to mask the fact that she was close to tears… knowing this would hurt Sabina. “Of course, your excellency.” She replied, proud of how steady her voice sounded. “I…” She had to pause to take a breath, “I accompanied my brother into the Greendale Wood. In his arms, he carried his newborn daughter, Sabrina. When we reached a clearing, he placed the babe on an altar, and…” The words caught in her throat, her mouth worked uselessly for a moment before she was able to spit out the horrible truth. “Signed her name in the Book of the Beast.” Zelda finished in a rush, hands fisting the fabric of her coat as murmurs broke out once more among the onlookers and Hilda watched her in wide-eyed disbelief. “Promising her soul to the Dark Lord.” She added quietly, knowing Faustus would be obligated to ask her what this implicated and not wanting to give him the chance. 

The look of betrayal on Sabrina’s face cut her to the core, but her niece’s expression quickly transformed into anger. A hard, “what?” Escaping her as she stared at her aunt. Zelda’s chin trembled, despite how she clenched her jaw, tears never helped anyone, and they most certainly wouldn’t help now. All she could do was stand here and take the consequences. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sabrina confronted her the moment they entered the house. “Now it makes sense! All your strong-arming trying to get me to sign. You were just trying to cover up the fact that you had already pawned me off to the Dark Lord like a used car!” 

Zelda started, Sabrina might as well have slapped her. “You were never meant to find out! You were meant to choose the Path of Night and sign your name willingly. That way—” 

But Sabrina just shook her head in disgust. “That way, I never would’ve found out about my father’s betrayal? **And yours?!** ” She shouted tearfully, and Zelda swallowed, eyes glazing over with her own tears which she hurriedly blinked away, certain that Sabrina would only scoff at them and think them fake. 

She lowered her voice, trying to defuse the situation a little. “Edward needed a witness.” She explained gently, hating the hurt in Sabrina’s face. 

“Why would he do that to me?” She demanded. 

And here it was, was this time to tell them all everything? It was the perfect opportunity, she’d likely never have one like it again. But she couldn’t, not when Sabrina was already so devastated, but her niece deserved some of the truth. 

Struggling for a moment to share even a small piece of the secret she’d been carrying for over a decade, Zelda forged ahead. “A certain bargain had been struck, and the price your father paid for it was your name in that book.” 

“What could’ve been worth it?” Sabrina asked, brows furrowed in anger, confusion and hurt. 

Zelda inhaled slowly through her nose, “permission to marry your mother. The Dark Lord granted it in exchange for—” 

But Sabrina had heard enough, “for me… his _daughter_. And you stood there, and you watched him do it, Aunt Zelda! **You helped him do it!** ” With that Sabrina stormed off, leaving the rest of them in the parlor. 

She wanted to shout back that the deal had been made without her knowledge, that she’d been against the whole thing, that she’d refused at first, slammed her brother into the wall and cursed him at length before he’d threatened to do it without her. But Zelda swallowed the hurt and the words that wanted to burble up her throat. Sabrina needed someone to blame. And her father was dead and often idolized so while Sabrina may be temporarily angry with him, she’d never really blame the man—which left Zelda. 

So, she took it. Took the anger spewing from this girl she’d raised. The child needed a bad guy, Zelda could be that. She’d played the role long enough, why not add another reason on top of it? Pressing her lips together, Zelda nodded at Ambrose and Hilda and made her way upstairs as well, hoping to hide how deeply Sabrina’s words had cut. 

She longed go to the basement with the flog… a good whipping would distract her and help cleanse some of the guilt that was overwhelming her. But her back had barely begun to heal from her last punishment, and Hilda would likely follow her soon; it was too big of a risk. Sighing, Zelda got ready for bed. 

As predicted, Hilda entered the room moments later. “Are you alright, Zelda?” She asked tentatively, changing for bed as well. 

“Of course,” she replied airily, throwing her decorative pillows to the side and climbing into bed, grateful that she’d mastered the art of reining in her emotions within minutes long ago. 

Hilda didn’t believe her though, “Sabrina said some hurtful things.” She remarked, slipping under her own covers. 

“Yes, well, what teenager hasn’t?” Zelda tried to brush away her sister’s concern. “And besides, she’s not entirely wrong. While I didn’t approve of Edward’s action by any means, and there was nothing I could do to change the deal he’d made, I still could have told her.” And she’d thought helping Edward fulfill his price would help keep him alive…. Paying his price _should_ have kept him alive. 

Hilda’s next comment broke through Zelda’s musings. “Oh, but to tell a child that their life and soul were signed away a few days after birth? That is a scary thing to learn.” Hilda observed, playing with the quilt on her lap. 

Zelda brought her gaze back to her sister’s, “I know. So, I decided to spare her the fear, thinking she would sign the book and it would never matter, that no one would be the wiser about what Edward did. That he sold his daughter and I helped.” She whispered wretchedly, once more wishing she’d been able to flog herself for causing Sabrina so much pain. 

“You could try explaining it a little more to Sabrina, why you kept it a secret…” Hilda suggested, clearly not missing Zelda’s miserable tone. 

Zelda shook her head, “Sabrina is justified in her anger, I won’t try and take that away from her. Besides, I don’t think she wants to speak to me right now and wouldn’t listen if I tried.” She leaned heavily against her headboard, her back exploding in pain at the pressure, but it was all she could do to punish herself at the moment. 

Giving her a sympathetic look, Hilda tried again. “You don’t always have to be the ‘bad guy’, Zelds. Edward was in the wrong, you didn’t have a choice. Sabrina—" 

“Sabrina knows little of her father and I will not place this on him, though that is where it belongs, and have her hating the idea of him the rest of her life. A girl should be able to idolize her father.” She murmured, licking her lips. “And really, it was a big, terrible secret to keep. I should have known better than to hide it. Nothing stays a secret forever.” 

And if Hilda averted her eyes and squirmed slightly at the statement, Zelda dismissed it. Whatever secret Hilda was hiding could wait, they had to make it through the trial first. So, she turned her back to her sister and laid down, quickly turning off the lights to disguise the fact that Sabrina’s words about betrayal had several tears sliding down her cheeks. 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

Zelda had to give Webster some credit, his sheer audacity at suggesting that the Court of Witches had no authority over Sabrina because of her duality was clever. But it was ultimately fruitless and put Sabrina in a more dire position than before, Faustus demanded Sabrina be tested to see which aspect of her duality was stronger using the mortal methods that had killed many witches and mortals alike centuries before. 

Then the option to be stripped and searched in full view of the coven for a witch’s mark was offered, Zelda immediately leaned forward and placed a hand on Sabrina’s arm, both she and Hilda subtly, but adamantly, shook their heads at the idea. They would _not_ allow their niece to be subjected to that. 

But her niece and her lawyer seemed to be considering it, when they got back to the house Zelda couldn’t even sit at the table with them as they discussed the possibility. 

“Absolutely not! I forbid it,” she exclaimed, pacing the room and smoking. 

Hilda’s voice cut in sharply, “sit down, Zelda, before you collapse. You’re skin and bone.” 

Zelda turned and glared at her sister, but Hilda’s eyes were filled with concern—and not just because they were still aging rapidly, but because she knew Zelda had barely eaten since Sabrina ran from her baptism almost a week ago. Ignoring her sister, Zelda continued to pace. 

Webster’s voice recaptured the sisters’ attention though. “Sabrina, I have to ask. Do you even know if you have a mark? Let’s start there.” 

Before Sabrina could answer, however, Faustus entered the kitchen. And Zelda once more felt the acute loss of her magic—had she had her powers she’d have received a warning that he’d entered the property. 

“Perhaps there’s another way,” he offered, coming to a stop in front of the three at the table. Zelda was quick to abandon her pacing and came stand next to him. “You’ll excuse my unannounced visitation, but I come bearing felicitous tidings.” 

He then offered a very generous deal, no punishment in the Pit and Sabrina would be able to visit her mortal friends. All she had to do was sign and go to the academy full time, praise Satan, Zelda wasn’t sure she’d have been able to dissuade Sabrina from the strip search for a mark. 

But the moment Faustus left, Webster was announcing that they would not be taking the deal. That it was a trick, that what the Dark Lord offered should never be taken at face value. Zelda tightened her grip on her cigarette holder, more aware of that fact than any of them realized… and yet? What of they lost? What would happen to her girl then? 

Sabrina murmured that she wanted the night to think on it and bade them all goodnight before heading upstairs. Zelda pinched the inside of her arm and followed Sabrina out of the kitchen but made her way to the office instead. She knew sleep would evade her tonight, so she pulled several witching law books off the shelf and started to peruse them, just in case. 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

They’d gathered in the kitchen a little before the trial at Sabrina’s request. When they’d all settled, Sabrina told them that she wasn’t going to take the deal, that she’d submit to be searched for a witch’s mark. 

“I don’t have a witch’s mark, so there’s nothing to lose.” Her niece had stated, and Zelda couldn’t fathom how she could agree to such a thing so calmly. 

“Except your dignity,” Zelda couldn’t help but mutter and she immediately pressed her back against the chair in punishment. Why, why couldn’t she discourage her niece without the sarcasm? 

Sabrina eyed her, “Aunt Zelda.” She warned tightly, likely trying to remind her aunt that she was not currently in Sabrina’s good graces. 

Trying to ease the tension, Ambrose jumped into the conversation. “Back into the fray, then, eh cousin?” 

Her niece nodded and then directed her next comment to Webster. “When they find out I don’t have a mark, Mr. Webster, what happens then?” 

Standing proudly, Webster declared, “we demand a retrial. In human court, where you’re innocent until proven guilty.” Though they all knew the coven would never take the case to human court, it would be ludicrous, which, Zelda supposed, was the point. 

“And we demand that my aunties’ powers and youth are restored. It’s non-negotiable.” Sabrina added firmly, shifting to look at them. 

Zelda lowered her cigarette and leaned forward. “Thank you for that, sweetheart,” she attempted a smile but failed. “But to be stripped and pawed by the Infernal Three—" She shuddered, visions of her girl being violated filling her head. 

Sabrina just looked at her in antipathy. “I’ve had worse done to me.” And Zelda sat back, jaw clicking shut. Now Sabrina was comparing her secret to being publicly groped? Zelda pushed against the back of the chair a little harder, at least then she could blame the tears forming in her eyes on the physical pain. Sabrina continued her little speech and then left to wait outside, Webster following. 

They sat there for a moment in miserable silence, Zelda pushing against the seatback harder and harder when Hilda suddenly slammed one of the dishes against the table. “It keeps getting worse and worse for her!” She struggled to stand up as quickly as she wanted, Ambrose hurriedly moving to assist her. 

“Where are you going?” Zelda asked tiredly as Hilda groaned and shuffled past her. 

“Upstairs!” She grunted, “don’t follow me. Don’t wait for me. Just get her to the court.” Hilda instructed fiercely, her tone surprising Zelda and Ambrose alike. Though as she walked away, Zelda could have sworn she heard Hilda state that she wasn’t the only one with secrets. 

Not liking where this might lead, but also needing to get Sabrina to the Church of Night for her trial, Zelda pushed herself up from the table and made her way outside to join the others. 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

Hilda burst into the room, crying out stop, and Zelda felt relief wash over her. Whatever her sister had planned she arrived just in time to save Sabrina. 

Only, only it was a, a Catholic baptism? No, no, no. Zelda’s head spun, and she was having a hard time catching her breath, what would the church do? Images of Hilda burning at some stake swam before her eyes. Hilda had protected Sabrina but had potentially sacrificed herself in the process. 

The hinged doors in the floor of the church flew open, flames licking the entrance and Zelda flinched. So the Dark Lord wanted to bargain…she glanced at Faustus and he looked ill, he knew he’d been bested in court and this would not end well for him. Zelda felt a pinch of concern, but that was quickly overwhelmed by her worry for Hilda and Sabrina. 

Zelda practically pushed her family outdoors as they waited for the private meeting to end. The moment the doors shut behind them Zelda rounded on her sister. 

“How could you, Hilda?” She demanded, eyes wide. 

Hilda looked at her in disbelief. “How’s it any different than your secret with Edward?” She demanded, clearly feeling that she shouldn’t be reprimanded. 

“It’s completely different! A Christian church?!” She retorted, the part of her secret that had been revealed wouldn’t have gotten anyone killed. Hilda was surely facing that possibility for participating in a ritual for the false god. 

Sabrina cut into their argument, demanding to know why her mother hadn’t wanted to tell her father. When Hilda gave a possible answer, Sabrina shook her head, unsatisfied. “So, they were both deceivers.” She observed, not too subtly sweeping her eyes over her aunts as well to let them know she thought they fit in the same category. 

“Sabrina!” Zelda admonished, “honor thy father and mother.” No matter how little they may deserve it at times, she thought, but what she’d said to Hilda was true; children should be able to look up to their parents. While there came a point in every child’s life when they became disillusioned about their parents, Zelda had hoped that Sabrina would never have to be. 

“No more lying, aunties. Do you understand?” She peered closely at Hilda. “No more lying to me about my own family,” she turned her attention to Zelda. “Ever again.” And though Zelda knew she was lying just by agreeing to this, she nodded, as did Hilda. But there was a difference between lying and protecting… or so she’d told herself for years. 

The bells ringing signaled them to come back inside, sighing, she and Hilda trailed after Sabrina slowly, leaning partially on one another as they went. 

They’d won. Beelzebub help them, they’d won. Zelda slumped slightly in her pew, Sabrina was safe… though what would happen to Hilda remained to be seen. But, one thing at a time. 

“Full powers will be restored to the Spellman family,” Faustus decreed as he ended the proceedings. 

Thunder boomed and lightning cracked through the sky and Zelda’s powers flooded back into her system, rolling and crashing as it went, and Zelda couldn’t help but shoot up at the sensation. “Praise Satan,” she gasped, her magic surging through her as if was equally as happy to be back where it belonged. Several coven members shot her looks, so she quickly added, “I’m young again.” Raising a hand to her cheeks as if to reaffirm this. Yes, she was young again and that was grand. But she was no longer vulnerable, and that was what mattered. 

Happily, their little unit made their way outside, the rest of the coven teleporting away now that the excitement was over. Sabrina moved to say goodbye to Daniel Webster, and though he’d been an enormous help, Zelda could say that she was happy to see him go. 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

It was nearly three in the morning when they all got settled in at the house. Zelda had finished locking up and refreshing her wards when the phone rang. She froze for a moment, sorely tempted to let it continue to ring. Because she knew who would be on the other line and she knew what he was calling about. 

Reluctantly, Zelda picked up the phone, “Spellman residence,” she answered, hand trembling. And though she’d anticipated this, her breath still got caught in her throat when Faustus’ voice filtered through the device. 

“Zelda,” and she could hear how tired her was, she could relate. 

Swallowing, “what’s the price?” She whispered, clutching the phone tightly. 

“Hilda is to be excommunicated.” He informed her with a heavy sigh, and she was lucky that his covered up the sound of her relieved gasp. 

“Excommunicated?” She repeated, just to be sure, and if he mistook that her voice trembled because of fear instead of joy that was fine with her. 

The clink of ice against glass echoed over the phone, “yes. All things considered it is a light punishment for what she did. As part of her excommunication, your sister will no longer be welcomed by the coven, welcome at coven events, or offered the protection of the Church of Night. Will you relay this on to her?” 

Zelda smiled, “yes, of course.” She murmured, ensuring that her tone did not betray her true feelings. 

“And for Satan’s sake, everyone’s sake, Zelda. Please get your family under control.” He muttered, and she knew then that his loss in the courtroom had cost him dearly, likely in more ways than one; the Dark Lord was not forgiving. 

That pinch of concern was back and this time it stayed now that she knew her family was safe. But there was nothing she could do to help him, not when her family had been the cause of all this grief to begin with. “I’m trying,” she sighed quietly, before offering her humble thanks and acceptance and hanging up the phone. 

Hilda was only to be excommunicated, no death or years in the burning Pit. Zelda pressed her forehead against the wall next to the phone. It appeared that she got to keep what remained of her family a little longer. 

She didn’t share this relief with Hilda, making the announcement as ominously as possible—Hilda had cast doubt on their devotion to the church, and that was dangerous. And Zelda still needed to maintain the front she’d created so long ago. If Hilda wasn’t involved with the church it was left only to Zelda to play nice with the coven, to be the liaison for the Spellman family, to try and smooth things over and keep them smooth. Though that was getting increasingly difficult to do. 

A housebound nephew, a niece that defied that Dark Lord at every turn and now an excommunicated sister…. It was a wonder any of them were still alive. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I needed an explanation for why Hilda had to lose a tooth! That just seemed so random to me, and it was another Spellwood moment I didn't want to pass up.
> 
> I'm also probably being too kind to Blackwood's character, but this is my fic, soooo, yeah, haha. Hope you enjoyed :)


	13. Chapter 13

Faustus reread the letter that had been on his desk when he got in that morning. It was from Lilith, demanding that Sabrina be put through a particularly vicious harrowing; by command of the Dark Lord, of course. He had to ensure that she would be strong enough to serve him when she finally signed the book. 

The words, though moderately polite, still held threatening undertones as to what would happen should he interfere and make the harrowing Sabrina was to receive less severe. Faustus adjusted his collar uncomfortable and swallowed hard, the lesson he’d learned after losing the trial had him reluctant to defy the Dark Lord in any way. 

Sighing, Faustus called the weird sisters into his office. “Ladies,” he began, knowing the trio would be more than up to the task. He knew they enjoyed harrowing new students, but he’d always kept them on a leash. Harrowings had gone too far in the past and during his time as headmaster he’d seen to it that the brutality and cruelty of the tradition had lessened—unfortunately, the Dark Lord did not want Sabrina to experience this ‘watered-down’ version of a harrowing, and Faustus wasn’t about to disagree. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Zelda walked into the kitchen as Sabrina expressed her surprise at the protection charms Hilda had prepared for her. Zelda rolled her eyes, the spells she placed on Sabrina every year would more than protect the girl from any minor hexes and ill-will, even more serious curses; rendering Hilda’s little trinkets irrelevant. 

“Honestly, Hilda what next? Crystals? Sage?” She remarked dryly, pouring herself an expresso. 

Hilda frowned at her, “I was concerned, Zelda, that she was gonna get bullied.” She stated in a tight voice, “you know how cruel girls can be at that or _any_ age.” 

Before Zelda could respond to that comment, however, Sabrina broke in. “Don’t worry about me, Aunt Hilda. I can take care of myself.” She reassured, examining the charms. Zelda smiled and glanced at Sabrina, yes, her girl could take care of herself. 

“I know,” Hilda responded affectionately. “Ooh! What if you take Salem in with you? Or we could teleport him to you.” 

Zelda looked at her sister in alarm, that would get Sabrina bullied faster than anything. “Nonsense. Only babies and ninnies take their familiars to school.” She noted, lifting the cat off the counter and placing him on the floor—really, as if they didn’t have animal hair everywhere else, they could at least keep the kitchen relatively clear of it. “Remember when you tried to bring your spiders? How all the other students laughed and called you names?” She reminded Hilda, arching a brow and trying to evidence that that was the **exact** reason Sabrina shouldn’t bring her familiar. 

Hilda scoffed and muttered something under her breath that Zelda didn’t catch, but she ignored it, turning her attention to Sabrina—needing to convey to her that the academy really was an enjoyable place… or at least a place where one could learn tremendous things and make dear friends. 

“My years at the academy were amongst the happiest of my life. The books I read, the friendships I cultivated. It was like being part of the most marvelous salon, arguing about ideas, philosophy.” Zelda smiled nostalgically to herself, “your father and I would get into such debates.” She recalled, taking a sip of expresso. 

Sabrina furrowed her brow, “hmm, really? Because you seemed to be on the same page about signing my name in the Book of the Beast.” 

The words were like a physical blow, hitting her dully in the gut and leaving her temporarily speechless. Hilda chose that time to interrupt about breakfast and how she would then drive Sabrina to school. 

Zelda was grateful for the moment to compose herself, but she had to interrupt her sister there. “Absolutely not, Hilda.” She declared, standing up from the table, Sabrina’s comment robbing her of her appetite. “You’ve been excommunicated, or had you forgotten?” Really, Hilda needed to be more mindful of the what her excommunication meant, or she would risk angering the Dark Lord once more… and they wouldn’t be let off so easily the next time. 

“Oh, how could I forget when you’re reminding me every other minute.” Hilda replied somewhat tersely, as she played with some of her kitchen utensils. 

She was the nag now, of course, but someone had to keep track if they were to remain alive. “As a consequence, you’re not allowed within spitting distance of the academy or any Church of Night property, for that matter.” 

And from the affronted look Hilda shot her it was as if Zelda had been the one to excommunicate her and not just the one reminding her of the terms of her punishment. “Well, I can give my niece a bloody hug before she goes, can’t I?” 

So, while Hilda gave their niece her ‘bloody hug’, which Sabrina returned immediately with a smile, Zelda pursed her lips and looked away. Though she and Hilda had both lied to Sabrina, she felt that Sabrina had accepted, and forgiven, Hilda’s lie much more readily. 

Perhaps it was because Hilda’s lie had freed Sabrina, while Zelda’s had condemned. Or perhaps it was simply that Sabrina loved Hilda more and that made it easier to move on. Satan knew Zelda had a difficult relationship with her niece, and perhaps that could explain the still frosty nature in her interactions with Sabrina. 

Regardless, they needed to get going if they wanted to be on time, so Zelda poured out the remains of her coffee and didn’t touch the food Hilda had set out. “Sabrina, when you’re finished grab your bag and meet me out at the car.” She left the room, leaving Hilda to titter about one thing or another with their niece in peace. 

Once outside, Zelda lit a cigarette, leaned against the car and took a long draw, flooding her system with nicotine. She felt mildly bad for Hilda, it was another big first day of school that she wouldn’t be able to attend. Though, it truly was a small price to pay in return for participating in a Catholic baptism. As she waited, however, Zelda found herself wishing that Hilda could have come… if only to act as a buffer between her and their niece. But her thoughts were interrupted by Sabrina joining her and the two climbed into the car without a word. 

As they drove, Zelda tried to tell Sabrina more about the academy, about all the exciting things she’d get to do, all the wonderful things she would learn, how Zelda’s favorite spot had been at a study desk in the library that was situated next to the window overlooking the pond next to the school. But Sabrina just stared out the window, making no acknowledgement that she’d heard Zelda. 

When the railroad tracks appeared, Zelda internally sighed, she hadn’t been sure how much longer she’d have been able to keep up the one-sided conversation. “This means the academy is just around the corner. The tracks help deter mortals from wandering over this way,” she explained, pointing up ahead to where the top of the building peeked through the trees. 

“I can walk from here.” Sabrina stated, leaning back to pull her bag into her lap from the backseat. 

“What?” Zelda glanced at her, “nonsense, I can drop you off at the front—” She gestured towards where the building was becoming more visible, but Sabrina was already opening the car door. “For the love of Lucifer!” Zelda slammed on the brakes and waved a hand to shut Sabrina’s door before she could go anywhere. “What are you doing?” 

Sabrina scowled, “I told you, here’s good. I don’t need to be dropped off on the steps like some little kid.” She threw the door open once more and got out. 

Wanting to appear independent was something Zelda could understand, so she let Sabrina’s manners slide and leaned towards the open door. “Have a good time, if you need—” 

But Sabrina slammed the door shut on the rest of her sentence and stalked away, shoulders hunched, bag slung over her shoulder and bouncing against her leg in her hurry to hop onto the abandoned tracks and make it to the academy. Zelda resisted the urge to get out of the car and shout after her niece that the grudge she was harboring should really be directed at Edward, that she had done the best she could given the situation. 

Instead, Zelda ran her tongue over her teeth and put the car in park before shutting off the engine. Though they were close to the school and Sabrina wasn’t a baby, there were still dangerous things in these woods, and she wasn’t going to leave until Sabrina reached the front door. Zelda drummed her fingers along the wheel as she waited, irritation mounting as Sabrina slowly made her way down the tracks until she paused and then stepped off the tracks to approach the academy. 

Nodding, Zelda restarted the engine and maneuvered the car around to head home. Worrying the inside of her lip and trying to figure out why Sabrina found it so easy to forgive and love Hilda and not her. 

~~~~~~~~~ 

Zelda spent the rest of the day restlessly going through mundane paperwork, how she hated this aspect of the mortuary…. How she hated the mortuary overall, it was such dreary work; though it was convenient at times. 

After botching a file four times in a row, Zelda gave up and went to her room to change. She pulled on a pair of worn, but comfortable, jeans she’d used often when Sabrina was small and chasing her in dresses impossible. Then a thick cream sweater and a scarf before finishing the ensemble with hiking boots—though she’d never admit it to anyone, she rather enjoyed hiking. Zelda teleported herself to the edge of the Greendale woods and started up a rather steep hill. The physical exertion was distracting, the clean air refreshing and keeping an eye out for any manner of danger pushed all thoughts of Sabrina’s ever increasing distance from her mind… at least for a time. 

When she reached the top of the hill 30 minutes later, Zelda smiled and inhaled deeply. There wasn’t another human in sight, solitude could agree with her quite nicely sometimes. She remained there for several hours, taking in the sounds and breathing slowly and deeply—Hilda would have been pleased had she known, would say this was a good way to control her blood pressure. 

It was only when the sun started to dip that Zelda was forcefully reminded of some memories she’d been pushing down all day. Her first night at the academy… a shudder ran through her and suddenly the quiet solitude, which had been so peaceful moments before, seemed sinister. She teleported back home and changed with the wave of her hand. 

There was nothing to fear, she scolded herself pacing the room slightly, her harrowing had been long ago, and the tradition had mellowed drastically before being put out of practice for good two decades ago when a student truly went mad from the ‘games’. Sabrina was perfectly safe. 

Yes, Sabrina was safe she repeated over and over as she made her way downstairs to join Hilda and Ambrose for dinner. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The first call she got from the academy was not the one she’d been expecting. If Zelda was honest, she’d been hoping that Sabrina would call after her first day of classes and enthuse about them to her aunt, apologizing for saying she’d never wanted to go, and could she sign the book so that she could attend full time? 

Zelda knew it was a foolish fantasy, but still, she’d hoped. Which was why she was shocked when Faustus called her to tell her Sabrina’s familiar was there. For a moment, Zelda wanted to go find Hilda and curse at her, for surely the presence of Salem at the academy was her sister’s doing. But she pushed the violent urge down and told Faustus she would be there immediately. 

She teleported to the steps of the academy and made her way to Faustus’ office, the halls were empty, all the other students still in bed or readying for classes. Sabrina was already seated in one of the chairs when Zelda entered, her niece glanced at her briefly, a contrite expression automatically tugging her features before she remembered that she was angry with her aunt and her face transformed into something distant and neutral. 

“Honestly,” Zelda breathed, “the first day?” The remark didn’t come out nearly as sternly as she’d planned… it just sounded tired. 

Faustus raised his brows at them and then dove right in, going on about how familiars were not allowed at the academy, so Salem would have to go home with her. Zelda wasn’t completely listening, really, if this was solely about the cat Faustus could’ve teleported the thing to their house with a note. But then he moved on to what appeared to be the heart of the meeting. 

“Secondly, and I feel I must ask this, are you happy here, Sabrina?” He asked, and there was something in his tone that Zelda couldn’t place. But she didn’t waste time trying to interpret it. 

“Of course she is, Faustus.” She answered for her niece, Sabrina _needed_ to be happy at the academy, because otherwise the Dark Lord may come to think that the ‘dual citizenship’ deal he made wasn’t necessary if Sabrina constantly longed for her mortal school. 

Faustus glanced at her and then turned to Sabrina, “picking fights with other students. Complaining about your schedule.” He offered a few examples of her niece’s displeasure. 

Zelda furrowed her brow, she’d been banking on Sabrina at least enjoying the course work. “What’s this now?” 

Sabrina shifted to look at her, “I didn’t come here to major in herbalism or Latin, Aunt Zelda.” 

A bubble of relief buoyed inside her, this was something she could fix. “Well, of course you didn’t. If this is what you’ve got her studying, it’s no wonder she’s feeling restless. She’s not being challenged. Hilda and I taught her almost all there is for Latin and herbalism. Really, Faustus, she could easily test out of those.” 

Straightening in her chair slightly now that she knew Zelda was on her side, Sabrina cut in, “I told Father Blackwood I wanted to study conjuring. Like my father.” 

Zelda smiled at the thought, it also didn’t hurt that conjuring would require intense dedication and studying, to the extent that it might pull Sabrina’s mind completely from the mortal world she loved to dwell in. 

Faustus, however, had other thoughts, “Zelda, I can’t put her in conjuring without being sure she’s ready. It wouldn’t be safe. For her or the other students.” 

It was a sound argument, but one that was easily overcome. “Then test her.” Zelda offered confidently, knowing that whatever Faustus came up with would keep Sabrina occupied for some time and hopefully out of trouble. 

It also was a good way to show Sabrina that she supported her while also not being reckless with her niece’s safety—if she didn’t pass the test then perhaps Sabrina would throw herself into the subject in order to beat the high priest. And if she did pass, which Zelda assumed she would, hopefully Sabrina wouldn’t act out as much and would truly start to enjoy her time at the academy. A win-win if she’d ever seen one. 

The high priest was less than pleased with Zelda’s suggestion, knowing exactly what she was doing. But he stood and unlocked his cabinet and pulled out a puzzle all the same. Zelda’s heart dropped, though she was quick to regain control of her face which she knew had dropped as well, when she saw Faustus’ solution. 

Sabrina tilted her head, “what is it?” 

Anger started to build inside her, was Faustus truly going to test Sabrina this way? Was this to get back at her for challenging him and that ridiculous schedule he’d given her niece in the first place? “It’s an Acheron Configuration, if I’m not mistaken.” She answered stiffly, eyeing the device with dislike. “An arcane puzzle.” 

“A variation on it, yes.” Faustus replied, turning the puzzle over in his hands as he sat back down. “It’s a test of mental and actual dexterity.” He trailed off, attention getting lost as he gazed at the device. Faustus blinked and came back to himself and offered it to Sabrina. “Solve it, and you can join conjuring class.” 

“Or go mad trying.” Zelda cut in, glaring at Faustus as Sabrina took the configuration and cradled it in her arms. 

Faustus gave her a sly grin. “That won’t happen to your niece. Only the weak-willed fall prey to the Acheron’s fascinations.” 

Zelda narrowed her eyes but couldn’t help but agree. If nothing else, Sabrina was strong-willed. “Quite right. Sabrina will prove herself her father’s daughter.” She smiled proudly at her girl. 

“I had forgotten how fiercely maternal you can be, Zelda.” Faustus observed, watching her intently and she knew he was referring to her dealings with the intruders and how she’d claimed Sabrina came before everything and that was why she couldn’t marry him. Unsure how to respond, Zelda merely lifted a brow in return. “There is a personal matter I’d like to discuss with you… in private, if your niece will excuse us.” He added, giving Sabrina a meaningful look. 

Cocking her head in acknowledgement, Zelda answered for her niece once more, though she kept her eyes on the high priest. “Of course, she will,” and as Sabrina stood to leave, she turned her attention to her niece. “And Sabrina,” she paused until she was sure she had the girl’s complete attention, “ _behave_.” 

Sabrina smiled warmly at her for the first time since the trial. “I will, Aunt Zelda. Even though I’m still missing my pajamas.” With that, Sabrina left, closing the door behind her. 

Zelda furrowed her brow, “pajamas?” She inquired, looking at Faustus. 

He shook his head and waved a dismissive hand. “Childish pranks, I like to let them sort it out themselves when possible. Otherwise I’d never rest.” Zelda smirked and thought of all the times she’d let Ambrose and Sabrina figure things out themselves simply because she’d been too tired, and that was when it was just the two of them and one certainly old enough to know better. She couldn’t imagine running a school full of newly minted witches and warlocks. 

“What is this matter you wish to discuss?” She saw no reason to dawdle there, she had a busy day at the mortuary, and this had already set her back. 

Faustus frowned and leaned against one side of his chair. “Zelda, Lady Blackwood has miscarried twice before. This distresses us gravely.” Her mood sobered immediately, no longer laughing at pajamas and childish pranks. “But now that I sit here with you, I feel… comfort.” 

Oh, how she hated that such simple words could tug her lips up into a smile. Because they had been a comfort to one another once, years ago. But his next words reestablished that they were, indeed, a long way from those intimate times. 

“Sister Spellman, would you be a midwife to her?” 

And Zelda’s mask fell, her mouth dropping open just a bit at the request. “To Constance?” Her heart squeezed painfully for a moment—just a moment. For what could have been. But it passed swiftly, she had children, she had Ambrose and Sabrina. Zelda felt no jealously over someone else’s children and she certainly wouldn’t begrudge anyone a child simple because she hadn’t given birth to one. But still, this was, this was an unusual request. 

“Faustus, it’s been years since I’ve delivered a child.” She reminded him, brushing her hair back. Yes, it had been years, though she’d despised it, she simply hadn’t had the energy, the ability, to run both the mortuary and be a midwife in addition to overseeing the household and trying to wrangle Sabrina. 

Something had to give, and she’d sacrificed what she’d loved. Zelda had much preferred bringing life into the world as opposed to seeing it out. But the mortuary was a family business, she would never leave what her father and Edward had built up. And it wasn’t as if she could stop being a Spellman or raising Sabrina… So, that had left her no choice but to abandon the career she’d loved, the one she’d worked tirelessly at to become the best. Faustus wasn’t wrong, she’d never lost a babe, not in all her decades of practice… how many midwives could say that? But her skill in the field hadn’t mattered, her desire to remain in the field hadn’t mattered, her family came first so she’d let it go. 

“Why me?” She inquired, though she’d never lost a babe she’d have thought their… history would have excluded her as a potential candidate for the job. 

“Lady Blackwood,” he offered with what could have been an apologetic grimace. “She wanted you to be her midwife, was adamant actually. Threatened curses of untold proportion and potions slipped into my drink should I fail to acquire your services. She knows you’re the best and we don’t want to lose any more children. Please, Zelda.” He implored, leaning forward, “your high priest is asking you.” 

Zelda nearly rolled her eyes at the final addition, she’d have done it without the religious incentive. Despite this, Zelda found herself nodding minutely and Faustus sagged back into his chair in relief. 

“I know this is short notice, but seeing as Constance is quite far along, would you mind seeing her tonight? We will provide dinner.” Faustus was giving her an entirely different look than before, and it unsettled her a bit. 

Still, Zelda once more found herself nodding. “I would be honored.” 

Faustus inclined his head, “thank you, I will see you in tonight, Zelda.” He smiled and bent over some paperwork. 

As she stood and took her leave, making sure to take Salem as she went, Zelda smiled slightly at the thought of being a midwife once more. She missed the work dearly, and no woman deserved to lose a child, not if she could help it. It also wouldn’t hurt to be in the good graces of her high priest—especially given recent events. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

When Faustus found her at the end of the day and told her Zelda Spellman had agreed to be her midwife, Constance had exhaled in relief. Despite her suspicions that her husband lusted for the woman, Zelda was truly the best midwife there was, and Constance refused to risk losing another child because of her husband’s inability to keep it in his pants. 

“I have invited her over for dinner tonight in thanks, and to conduct her first examination of you and the babe.” He added as they exited the academy to teleport home. Constance nodded, she’d already waited too long to hire a midwife, but the others in the area hadn’t prevented her previous miscarriages and she hadn’t been sure Zelda would come out of her early retirement; though short notice, it was for the best that Zelda came over immediately. 

When Zelda arrived at their home thirty minutes later, however, the way Faustus looked at her had Constance questioning her assumption that it was only lust that her husband felt. She could care less if he had an affair, it certainly wouldn’t be the first and she’d had her own fair share; arranged marriages among witches rarely led to love and fidelity. 

But the way he softened around Zelda, a gentleness coming out that Constance had never seen before, it had an odd sense of jealousy welling up inside her. Was this why he’d tried to convince her to ask the other Spellman sister, claiming Hilda was also a talented midwife? Because he didn’t want to be in close proximity to the head of the Spellman household…. Or because he did and had wanted to hide that fact? 

It hadn’t mattered, Constance flat out refused his suggestion, Hilda had been excommunicated for participating in a baptism for the false god, she couldn’t have that presence around the high priest’s heir. And the younger Spellman didn’t have the same reputation as a midwife as her sister—yes, she was competent, but she wasn’t Zelda. But now, watching her husband all but fawn over this witch, Constance somewhat regretted her decision. 

Zelda was perfectly proper, of course, she even seemed a little oblivious to the not so subtle undertones of Faustus’ words and actions. As they ate, she courteously admired the house, asked about decorations, recipes for the dishes they were eating and potential baby names. They discussed the Satanic choir and how Sabrina was fitting nicely into her role—Zelda had practically glowed when Constance praised the girl. 

“Your niece has a lovely singing voice Zelda, and I was impressed with her ability to sight read music. I take it that is your doing?” Constance murmured, watching her over the rim of her cup. 

Zelda beamed, “Sabrina is very talented. I just nurtured her natural gift and helped her learn to read music.” 

“Don’t be so modest, Zelda,” Faustus cut in. “You have a lovely voice yourself, surely Sabrina learned much from you.” 

Constance didn’t miss how a faint flush crept up Zelda’s neck at her husband’s compliment. Though she played it off politely, her reaction only deepened Constance’s suspicions and jealousy. Faustus had mentioned, when they arranged to marry, that he’d just exited a relationship with someone and that he didn’t foresee himself ever coming to love her in their marriage because of that. 

She hadn’t cared, Constance had known she wouldn’t love him either—the marriage was purely political. That, and Constance was trying to forget her own love who had died several months before. So, there they were, two idiots running from the past by recklessly diving into the future. They’d agreed to an open marriage, as long as there would be no pregnancies that didn’t specifically come from a pairing between the two of them—Constance didn’t want any other bastards trying to take what should belong to her future children. 

It had been a good arrangement, jealousy nonexistent on both their parts… until now. Until Constance saw an entirely different side of this man she’d been married to for a little over a decade. Until she saw that he _could_ be soft and caring and so much more… just not with her. It was this realization that had the jealousy bubbling up. Not that her husband loved or lusted for Zelda, but that he could have been far more than just civil with Constance during their marriage and he had just simply chosen not to be. 

No, apparently that was a side he reserved for Zelda Spellman and Zelda Spellman alone. Constance twisted the napkin in her lap in an effort to regain control over herself, the pregnancy hormones certainly didn’t help. Well, if nothing else Constance now knew that Zelda was the one that Faustus had been running from, she was the one that had gotten away. And this was information that she would store for later… it might prove useful should she ever need to leverage her dear husband in the future. 

For now, though, she’d lead Zelda to the spare bedroom, allow her to shoo Faustus away so that she could conduct her exam, and let this woman care for her child. Besides, didn’t the saying go, ‘keep your enemies close’? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Dinner wasn’t nearly as bad of an affair as she’d expected. Zelda had kept up a steady conversation with Constance, practically ignoring Faustus for most of the meal. Though with the looks he’d been giving her it had been somewhat difficult. She knew he had a better mask, why he wasn’t employing the use of said mask, Zelda wasn’t sure. 

Thankfully, she was able to eat quite quickly and usher Constance further into the house for her exam. Once alone, Zelda was able to fully focus on the medicine, on her patient and it was like trying to dance again for the first time in years. 

But the song was one she’d known by heart for most her life, and though there were a few missteps at first, as she fumbled her tools, Zelda quickly fell back into that familiar pattern. A sense of peace washed over her as she fluidly moved and worked around her client. She ran more tests than she usually would for a first visit, but Constance was rather far along, and Zelda had some catching up to do. 

As she was finishing up, Zelda sighed in contentment. Maybe, maybe she could take on a few clients as a midwife now that Sabrina was at the academy. If she took it slowly, didn’t overextend herself it would be doable… and it would add something to look forward to throughout the week other than the arrival of another dead body. 

It was then that she felt a slight disturbance in the wards she’d placed around the house. She glanced at her watch and frowned. It was much too late for a mortuary client, perhaps one of Sabrina’s friends had forgotten she was gone for the weekend and had come looking for her? That was a likely explanation, but Zelda still quickly packed up her tools, scheduled their next appointment and was on her way home in five minutes. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

When Zelda arrived home, however, there was no one waiting on the porch. Though odd, and seeing as how she hadn’t sensed the new presence leave the wards, Zelda made her way inside considering the possibility that her wards needed a tune up. That could wait until morning, though, right now all she wanted was to end this wonderful evening with a stiff drink, her favorite record and a good book next to the fire in the parlor. But as she moved further into the house, she found the source of the disturbance in her wards. A woman was descending the stairs—clearly having been up in their living quarters. 

“Excuse me, can I help you?” And though it was technically a question, her tone conveyed that the woman had no business being upstairs in her home. It wasn’t just the woman’s presence upstairs that bothered her, there was something else off… an aura of power and magic that was not usually in the house. The sensation filled Zelda with unease, and she eyed the witch in front of her—for the woman was certainly magical, Zelda could feel the power radiating from her. Perhaps she’d sweep the house for spells once this witch is gone. 

“So sorry. I was looking for the powder room and that lovely little English lady that told me to wait had been gone for so long—” 

Zelda narrowed her eyes, distrusting this woman. “And you are?” She interrupted. 

“Ms. Wardwell. I’m one of Sabrina’s teachers, but… I came here to make some funeral arrangements.” She trailed off, as if sensing that Zelda didn’t believe her. 

“I see. And the woman you spoke to, where did she go?” She glanced towards the mortuary office, but the open door gave her full view of the empty, darkened room. 

Wardwell’s eyes flitted towards the door under the stairs, “the basement, I believe. Yes.” Zelda gave her a thin smile and stepped aside to indicate that that she should leave. Knowing that Zelda wasn’t going to entertain her any longer, Wardwell made for the exit. “I shall be on my way.” 

Zelda gave her a curt nod and followed closely behind her, closing the door with a definitive snap before locking it. She’d contemplate this witch and what her presence meant later, right now she had more important things to investigate. 

Dropping her medical bag on the ground, Zelda made for the basement muttering “Hilda, what game are you playing at?” As she hurried down the stairs. The lights were on in the morgue, but she didn’t hear anything, which never boded well. “Hilda, where are you? Where’s Ambrose?” 

“Zelda?” Came a small voice, and Zelda followed it into the examine room. 

“Dear Satan!” She cried when she processed the scene in front of her. Crossing the room in three quick steps, she kicked the candles away, effectively breaking the spell. It wasn’t the safest way to bring someone back from the astral plane, but it was the quickest and based on the psychopomps flitting around the ceiling Ambrose needed to have been brought back minutes ago. 

Ambrose shot up, gasping for air causing both her and Hilda to jump and cry out. She waited a second, to make sure that Ambrose was indeed alright before diving into a lecture she’d have thought the two in front of her were much too old to hear. 

“Have you two _completely_ taken leave of your senses?!” She demanded, heart pounding as she switched her glare between them for an explanation—but they avoided her eyes. “Astral projection? Of all the stupid, reckless things you could do—” 

Hilda turned to her then, “it was well in hand.” She retorted. 

“In hand? In hand? Is that why there are still a few psychopomps flying around our morgue! Not to mention that you left a client alone, upstairs, which it totally unprofessional, Hilda.” And dangerous, she hadn’t liked the energy emanating from that Wardwell woman. 

But Hilda’s back was to her again, under the pretext of checking on Ambrose who was still recovering from his time in the astral plane. “Only for a few minutes, she had the catalogue.” Her sister grumbled, rubbing Ambrose’s arm slightly. 

She bit back a scoff, clearly Hilda did not see the same dangers in allowing strangers, magical ones at that, roam their house freely. Honestly, her sister’s blind trust would be the death of her someday. But that was an argument for later. 

“And Ambrose, my dear felon, you are housebound. You are _forbidden_ from leaving the grounds, and that **includes** your spirit.” Her nephew looked at her with wide eyes, though she couldn’t say if his expression was from his projecting, fear of her, or… or if he was nonverbally communicating with Hilda that he couldn’t believe Zelda was being a killjoy once more. The little nod he gave to Hilda and the ghost of a smile had Zelda thinking it was the latter. “Clean this up and pray that the Dweller didn’t sense your presence and share it with the Council. If you think being housebound is bad, Ambrose, your situation could certainly be worse.” 

With that, Zelda spun on her heel and made her way back upstairs, trying to ignore how Hilda giggled and started to ask Ambrose about his time. It was going to be a long night sweeping the house for any stray spells that may have been responsible for that aura she’d felt when she arrived home. 

But as Zelda reached the kitchen, she realized that the odd aura, that sense of unease… it was gone. She sighed, it must have been the ripples from Ambrose astral projecting for far too long. It had nothing to do with that Wardwell woman, she was just rude and nosy and had decided to poke around while left unattended. There was no reason to spend most of the night going through each room searching for hidden spells and wrongdoing. 

The years had made her paranoid. Rubbing her forehead, Zelda poured herself a particularly strong drink and stood sipping it at the counter… no longer in the mood to celebrate a pleasant and successful evening of midwife work. The peace and happiness she’d felt just hours before from once more submerging herself in work she loved had vanished. 

This, this was why she couldn’t take on clients, be a midwife again. Because she’d left her family alone for a few hours and they’d pulled illegal and life-threatening stunts while she was gone. Why she ever thought, even for a moment, that she could take up midwifery again, when she knew her family came first. 

It had been a stupid, wishful dream. Thinking she could just take back up what she’d sacrificed before. “Idiot,” she muttered to herself, knocking back the rest of her glass and pouring another before heading upstairs. 

She considered a quick punishment, just a few strokes with the flog would be sufficient. Would reopen some of the wounds from the previous week, would remind her why she couldn’t put herself or her wants before the family. But the dull ache that was spreading through her at the realization that she would indeed, **not** be taking up midwifery again outside of this one client was punishment enough. The dashing of her hopes, so soon after they’d been lifted, was punishment enough, was enough to remind her of her place and her duty. 

So, no. She didn’t feel the need to compound the emotional punishment with a physical one. Instead she drained her glass, dressed for and climbed into bed, and pretended to be asleep when Hilda entered the room some time later. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

They were sitting in a slightly strained silence the next morning at breakfast, though they each acted as they normally did. Zelda was grateful when the phone rang, and Hilda stood to answer it. If nothing else, it would give them something to talk about other than the fact that she’d ‘crashed’ their little astral projecting party the night before. 

Hilda tittered excitedly, “it’s Sabrina! It’s Sabrina!” She announced, popping her head around the corner briefly before returning to the phone. 

Zelda hesitated, imperceptibly, for a moment. Unsure if Sabrina would want to speak to her given their interactions since the trial and too clearly remembering the look Ambrose and Hilda had exchanged last night—one that conveyed she was on the outside of this family and its love and joy. But she then remembered the warm smile Sabrina had given her after she’d backed her niece concerning her schedule… and it was that gesture that had Zelda thinking that, perhaps they were on better footing now. 

If nothing else she could at least listen to Sabrina’s, hopefully enthusiastic, recounting of her second day at the academy. But the words that filtered through the phone connection when Zelda took the receiver from Hilda so that they could both listen did little to boost her spirits. 

“Uh, I’m okay. But I need your and Aunt Zelda’s help.” Sabrina whispered in a somewhat shaky voice in response to Hilda’s question. 

Frowning, Zelda adjusted the phone so that it was a little closer to her. “Sabrina? This is Zelda. What kind of help? What have you done now?” Because as glad as she was that Sabrina had called for help, her niece’s track record was against her. 

There was a lengthy pause, “children are **dying** at the academy, Aunt Zee, and no one is doing anything to stop it.” 

The statement sent fear careening through her, but it seemed unlikely that deaths could be occurring without some kind of uproar from the parents. “Dying? Dying how?” 

“Students have been harrowed to death by other students. And the weird sisters… are harrowing me.” 

The red was back, her vision blanketed with it. “Are they now?” She responded, tone low and dangerous. She spun on her heel as Hilda finished reassuring Sabrina on the phone, already gathering her things—her girl was in danger… in a place that was supposed to keep her safe. She wouldn’t stand for it. Apparently, she had been wrong in her assumption that the tradition of harrowing had ended, now it just occurred further under the radar. She should have known better. It was tradition, and witches were notoriously bad at breaking traditions. 

“Zelda!” Hilda bustled after her, having hung up with Sabrina. “I’m not—” 

“I don’t care what the church or Faustus says, Hilda. This is about Sabrina’s safety. Your excommunication be damned, you’re coming.” She interrupted curtly, pulling on her fur. Hilda’s eyes widened, but she nodded and grabbed her own coat. “Ambrose, we’ll be back later.” She announced, already heading out the door. 

Ambrose chuckled and called after them, “give ‘em hell, Aunties!” 

They arrived at the academy seconds later. Zelda straightened her dress, stood tall, lifted her chin a notch and marched inside; Hilda trailing after her with much less authority. She ignored the questioning stares from the students as they parted to let her through, she gestured for Hilda to wait in the hall and then barged into Faustus’ office without so much as a knock. 

“Where is my niece?” 

He looked at up at her bewildered, as much by her sudden appearance as her demand. “I hardly have her schedule mesmerized, Zelda.” He remarked, when he regained his composure. “Has she done something I’m not aware of yet to warrant this unannounced visit?” 

But she was in no mood for his games, his playful taunts. “I want to see my niece, **now**. And then we can talk.” She lifted a brow in challenge, and Faustus could likely tell from the set of her jaw that she wasn’t going to budge on the issue. 

Sighing, Faustus called for his secretary. “Please collect Ms. Spellman from class and bring her here.” The woman nodded and left with a brisk step that Zelda appreciated. 

They waited in a tense silence after Zelda ignored all of his attempts to needle the reason she was there out of her and refused to sit down when he made the suggestion. When Sabrina arrived several long minutes later, Zelda released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. 

Sabrina sighed in relief and smiled, hugging Zelda hard. “You came,” she murmured against Zelda’s shoulder tightening her hold a little before letting go. And Zelda didn’t miss the dark circles under her girl’s eyes, how her shoulders hunched slightly as if to protect herself from an impending blow. It lit a fire inside of her. 

“Of course, now, wait outside with Hilda. I won’t be long.” She instructed, tucking some of Sabrina’s hair behind her ear. Sabrina looked ready to argue, but when Zelda widened her eyes and tilted her head, Sabrina closed her mouth, nodded and scurried out, shutting the door behind her. 

Faustus groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hilda is here? For the love of Lucifer, Zelda, you know she can’t—” 

Zelda was in no mood to hear about what her recently excommunicated sister could and couldn’t do, she had bigger problems. “Why is there harrowing going on at this academy?” She demanded, turning her attention from the door Sabrina had left through and back to the warlock in front of her. “I thought they’d been phased out decades ago.” 

“Zelda, harrowings have _always_ been a part of the academy. They were never gone, just less intense, which meant less students mentioned them. We would never do away with them completely, they’re tradition.” He gave her a confused look, which was justified, she’d never gone against traditions before. “Besides, you even participated in some. You yourself were harrowed.” He reminded her, as if she could ever forget. “Harrowed others,” Faustus raised a brow and looked pointedly at the door where Hilda was waiting on the other side. 

She bristled at the statement, what she’d done was not comparable to the atrocities happening now. “I **never** killed a child.” She replied coldly, the hairs on the back of her neck lifting at the thought. 

He had the audacity to smirk at her then, “never killed a child other than your sister.” He countered, and before Zelda could argue that the first time she’d killed Hilda and thrown her in the Cain pit they’d both been in their 20s and it had had nothing to do with harrowing, Faustus continued. “Your sister who is violation of her excommunication by coming here.” 

Tightening her hold on her sunglasses, Zelda retorted, “I would contend that the circumstances demanded it.” 

“And I would contend that the Church of Night is only as strong as its weakest member, and that a good harrowing forges the weak.” 

Zelda took a step closer to him then, having kept her distance for fear she would slap him otherwise for letting Sabrina be harrowed. “My niece is **not** weak.” She tipped her chin up and punctuated each word with a small hand gesture. 

A smile tugged at Faustus’ mouth at her adamant assertion and he shrugged slightly. “Then really, Zelda, what is there to worry about? Besides, the last time child died during a harrowing was decades ago*. Whatever spirits Sabrina saw are from long ago, so why get involved?” 

Did he really need to ask? Did he truly not already know, that whenever Sabrina’s safety was at risk, whenever Sabrina called for help… she would _always_ get involved. 

“What if it were your child being harrowed?” She asked, hand already on the door knob. Their eyes remained locked for a moment, and suddenly images of what could have been, the children that could have been had she not run, flashed between them. It was a rare occurrence of uncontrolled telepathy, both of them so unguarded and raw that the thoughts had passed easily between them. 

Faustus broke eye contact first, a sad smile on his lips. “I will look into it, Zelda. But as I said,” he brought his eyes back to hers, “there hasn’t been a death from harrowing in decades.” 

Nodding curtly, Zelda followed his lead and ignored the sentiments and images that had burst into her mind and left the office, shutting the door behind her. 

Sabrina and Hilda both standing quickly at her appearance. “What did he say?” Sabrina asked, as Hilda looked at her anxiously. 

“He’s going to look into it,” Zelda sighed, stopping in front of the pair. 

Sabrina scrunched her nose, “and you believe him?” Zelda could practically feel the derision coming off of her niece, and it hurt that she had so little faith in her aunt. 

“Of course not.” Zelda scoffed softly, she knew that the points Faustus had made about traditions and the mellowing of the practice were valid. That she’d been foolish to assume that harrowing had stopped completely and that Sabrina would be spared the experience in the first place… but she also knew that Sabrina wouldn’t have called them about dying children if it wasn’t true. While dramatic, their niece would not have exaggerated on something as important as that. So, she placed a hand on Sabrina’s shoulder and steered her down the hall away from the administrative offices, “take us to the children,” she instructed, and Sabrina beamed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Sabrina took them to the middle of the woods, and Zelda didn’t miss how Sabrina shuddered as they made their way deeper into the trees. Before she could reach out a comforting hand, though, Sabrina was calling out. 

“Quentin? Will you please come out? We, uh, we want to help.” Sabrina murmured, scanning the area for the little spirit. “And feel free to bring the others.” 

Zelda was about to suggest a quick conjuring spell when the wind rushed through the trees and multiple presences made themselves known behind them. The trio turned slowly and there was almost a dozen of them, ages ranging, but all so very young. Much too young to have been harrowed, much too young to have been at the academy in the first place. 

Hilda gasped softly, “oh, the poor dears! Your heart breaks for them,” she murmured, removing her sunglasses and Zelda mimicked the movement. 

“I, I think they’re bound to the academy because they died here.” Sabrina offered, and Zelda’s heart clenched. 

None of this was okay, harrowing, though cruel, had still somewhat been child’s play when she and Hilda attended. This, this was something else entirely, something that she wouldn’t stand for. “Witches hurting witches. It’s unspeakable.” And from how Hilda and Sabrina looked at her, Zelda knew she’d allowed a little too much emotion to leak into her voice…. But it couldn’t be helped, not when there were the spirits of children standing in front of her. 

Sabrina glanced between her aunts and the children, “how can we free them?” 

It was a noble thought, to free the children. But likely one that wouldn’t do them much good in the long run. Zelda took a few steps forward and bent over so that she was eye level with them. “Is that what you want, children? To be released from here?” 

One of the youngest, the one Sabrina had called Quentin, stepped forward and shook his head. “Where would we go? This is our home.” He looked to the other children and then around the woods and they nodded in agreement. 

“Yes, it is.” Zelda smiled grimly and swallowed at the thought of these dark woods being home to any child, even if that child was a spirit, but she certainly wouldn’t force them to leave… that was why she had asked what they wanted. She straightened, crossing her arms. “So, what do you want then?” 

The children dropped their gazes then, scuffed their toes in the dirt and fidgeted, clearly something on their minds that they were unwilling to say. 

Hilda, thankfully, stepped forward then and offered a solution, throwing a little shade at Zelda as she did. Zelda merely averted her eyes, pressed her lips together and pinched the inside of her arm where she had them crossed—it wasn’t anything she didn’t deserve. 

As her sister conspired with the children, Zelda took Sabrina aside. “And, how are you?” She inquired softly, so as not to disturb the plotting. 

Chewing her lip, Sabrina kept her eyes on the children. “Angry.” She stated, turning her gaze to Zelda. “This shouldn’t be happening.” 

Zelda nodded, eyes drifting back to group and lingering on Hilda’s back. “You are right, and we’re working to fix it. But, in the meantime, how are you?” She asked again, emphasizing the last three words. 

Some of Sabrina’s bravado leaked away now that she’d accomplished what she’d set out to do, leaving behind a little girl who’d been harrowed. “I—, I heard my mom and dad last night.” She admitted softly, “they spoke to me. Or some demon took on what I imagined their voices would be like and it spoke to me. And then, then I had to listen to them die….” Sabrina shuddered and pressed closer to Zelda without thought. “Them and Harvey, Roz, Susie, Ambrose and Aunt Hilda. All of them. I had to listen to all of them die over and over, begging me for help. And I couldn’t do anything.” She lifted her eyes and they were glistening. 

Quickly, Zelda tugged her niece into a tight hug, one hand rubbing comfortingly up and down Sabrina’s back as the girl slumped into her, arms wrapping around her waist. Zelda murmured soothing sentiments and tried to ignore the fact that Sabrina hadn’t listed her in the list of people she cared about and had to listen to die. Well, given the past few years, hell, the past week and a half alone, could she really be surprised by this? Blinking rapidly to dispel the impending tears, Zelda pulled back from Sabrina slightly. “Why didn’t you say something yesterday morning when I was here?” 

“What?” 

“Sabrina, I know harrowing lasts three nights, I was here yesterday. Why not tell me?” Zelda pressed, wondering if her relationship with her niece had become so damaged that she no longer felt that she could come to Zelda for help and protection. 

Sniffling, Sabrina ducked her head. “I thought it only lasted one night,” she confessed. “And the first one wasn’t, wasn’t too awful. Especially once Salem came to comfort me.” 

The realization dawned on her, and she berated herself for not connecting the dots sooner. Had Zelda figured how why the goblin had felt compelled to go to Sabrina and not thought it some ploy of her sister’s, Zelda might have been able to spare Sabrina a second night of harrowing. “Darling, I—” she began to apologize, though before she could finish Hilda stood up and turned to them. 

“We’re all set here.” She announced brightly, smiling at them, though it faltered a bit when she continued. “Though Sabrina will need to let the weird sisters bring her out here tonight for her last harrowing session if it’s to work.” Hilda grimaced in apology. 

But Sabrina nodded and moved away from Zelda, “I understand. What will happen?” And the group moved a little closer together as they explained their scheme, Sabrina and Hilda bending over to be more on the children’s level. 

Zelda hung back, allowing them to group together and share. She hated that Sabrina would still have to go through part of her last night of harrowing. But it made sense, and it really was a lovely way for these poor children to get some of the revenge they deserved. 

Her gaze drifted back to Hilda, wondering how many times her sister had truly imagined revenge, how many times Zelda should have ended up in the Cain pit and not Hilda. But her sister was too kind, and while she may dream of getting revenge or setting the Greendale woods on fire like so much kindling… she never would. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

They were readying for bed, each of them uncharacteristically quiet the entire evening, too caught up in their own thoughts and memories to talk much. But it was nearing witching hour, and soon the weird sisters would be dragging Sabrina out of bed for a third time. 

Hilda sniffed and broke the silence. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep a wink until I know she’s all right.” 

Zelda paused, brush still held aloft from where she’d been combing her hair. Swallowing, and keeping her back to her sister, Zelda put the brush down. “Hilda?” 

“Yep?” 

She licked her lips and dipped her head briefly before carrying on. “When we were at the academy, if I—, if I pushed your harrowing too far…” She let the sentence hang there, her chin trembling just a bit when she caught a glimpse in her mirror of Hilda turning to face her. 

“If?” Hilda repeated incredulously. She took a deep breath, “you were ruthless.” 

It took her a moment to find the words, the ones that Hilda deserved to hear, should have heard long ago. An agreement that she had been ruthless. It had been, and likely still was, unusual for siblings to harrow one another. Typically, a student was given a pass, so to speak, from harrowing a new student when that person was a family member. 

But Zelda had known what would happen if she let the other girls harrow Hilda. Her night terrors from the events of her own harrowing plagued her even now. She knew as awful as she had been, it would’ve been worse had another girl led it. It would’ve been like hers and Zelda couldn’t let that happen. 

She also knew if she had gone ‘easy’ on Hilda that it would only have led to a second harrowing—one that Zelda wasn’t privy to. So, she’d harrowed her own sister. She’d been cruel and ruthless—and she’d protected Hilda from something unquestionably worse. 

Not that she’d ever told Hilda any of this. 

Besides, Hilda had a right to her feelings of betrayal and anger. She wasn’t going to try and make Hilda feel as though she was no longer justified in those sentiments by telling her the truth. It wasn’t as if the years at the academy following the harrowing had repaired the damage Zelda had wrought on their once close relationship. 

Zelda had gained a reputation. Anyone cold enough, crazy enough to harrow their own sibling wasn’t someone to be messed with. She’d embraced it, played the part and did what was necessary to maintain the façade. It kept trouble away not only from her, but also Hilda. For while Zelda might have been allowed to torment her sibling, Satan help anyone else who dared—or so she’d had her friends spread the word after the incident where Hilda snuck her spiders in. 

So, barring telling the truth, Zelda did what she should have the moment she finished harrowing Hilda. She swallowed hard and apologized. Years too late. But she apologized, unable to meet Hilda’s eyes for the shame. She waited a moment, before standing and stiffly leaving the room, knowing that if she stayed Hilda would hear her cry. 

“Aren’t you gonna go to bed?” Came a tentative question and it had Zelda pausing in the doorway and meeting Hilda’s eyes for the first time all night. 

She struggled for a moment, to get the words past the lump in her throat. “I, I thought I might stay up and read.” She managed, indicating that she was in the same boat as Hilda in terms of not being able to sleep until they heard from Sabrina. 

And Hilda smiled at her, smiled and offered to put the kettle on. Satan, what had she done to deserve such a kind sister? For surely, given everything she had done, Zelda did not deserve forgiveness, and kindness. But she was too weak to turn it away, so she’d nodded tearfully and continued down the hall, Hilda padding quietly behind her. 

Perhaps, perhaps this meant they were moving forward… that they could be the sisters they once had been. Before so much else had gotten in the way. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Faustus sighed and rested his head in his hands when he heard of how the Spellman girl had bested the weird sisters. He’d done all he could to fulfill the Dark Lord’s wish that the girl be brutally harrowed to better prepare her for servitude and yet it had not gone as planned; much like the dark baptism, much like the trial. Now he needed to find out what had gone wrong and how he would report this to Lilith when she inevitably came calling. 

Prudence entered his office warily, “you asked to see me, Father Blackwood?” He rarely saw her so meek. 

He didn’t look up from the letter in his hands for a moment, mulling over the words Lilith had written, her demands for the harrowing. “I did, Prudence.” He put the letter down and looked up at her, the office doors swinging shut behind her making her jump. “The three of you, senior students, and _one_ of her. A hedge witch with only some homeschooling, a half-breed. Yet she bested you.” He stood up, slamming his fist onto the desk, enraged that he once again would be paying the price for others’ ineptitudes. “She **humiliated** you!” 

The girl flinched and he saw her jaw working, likely wanting to dispute the statement. But she swallowed whatever argument she had and instead stated, “there’s no excuse, Father. It will not happen again.” 

“I hope not,” he moved out from behind his desk and paced over to the fire. “The Dark Lord wants Sabrina educated at the academy. But he also wants to make sure she is strong enough to serve him. In order to see that she is, perhaps Ms. Spellman should suffer a little while she is here.” Faustus glanced over his shoulder at Prudence and raised a meaningful brow. She nodded and left quickly, shutting the doors behind her. 

Grumbling, Faustus poured himself a drink and stared into the fire, hating the words that had just left his mouth, knowing this would only cause him headaches later. Because, despite common belief, he had a zero-tolerance policy for bullying in his school—often punishing the wrongdoers harshly to set examples when he heard of it. Harrowing didn’t count, it was tradition and every student went through it and childish pranks like stealing pajamas he let slide (for his own sanity). 

But more severe forms of bullying, he usually didn’t stand for those. One certainly couldn’t run a school of Satan worshipping witches and warlocks without strict ground rules… otherwise the school would be in utter chaos every day and the number of students going home with curses would be astronomical. So no, he didn’t abide by bullying, mostly because of the headaches and paperwork, but also because of reasons he’d sooner keep to himself least it be thought he’d gone soft. 

And yet, here he was, breaking that policy and giving the worst of his bullies full permission to torment Sabrina. This wouldn’t end well, he could already sense it. Whether it be Sabrina taking care of the situation herself or Zelda bursting back into his office, full of righteous anger and fire… 

Well, he wouldn’t mind a fired up Zelda in his office more, if he was honest. But it still wasn’t an ideal situation. The sooner they could get Sabrina to sign that Book of the Beast the better. Faustus downed his drink and poured another, knowing it was going to be a long semester. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

They’d dozed off, against their wills. They’d been determined to stay up the whole night just in case Sabrina called and needed additional help. But as some point or another, they’d both fallen asleep. 

Ambrose woke them the next morning, a smirk on his face and the phone in one hand. “Aunties, just thought I’d pass along the message that Sabrina is alive and will be home tonight.” 

Hilda had tutted and gotten up to go make breakfast, while Zelda held out her hand expectantly for the phone. Ambrose frowned and handed it over, a grumpy “she hadn’t finished the story,” escaping him as he trudged out of the room. 

“Sabrina,” Zelda drawled, happy to hear her niece’s voice. “Tell me all about what happened.” She could practically hear her niece smiling over the phone as she dove into how they stopped the harrowing and bested the weird sisters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *NOTE: based this on the dates on the gravestones (i.e. Quentin died in the late 1800s) and the clothes the kids were wearing it didn't seem like anyone had died recently from harrowing (not that that makes it okay, obviously). But maybe that’s just how I interpreted it.
> 
> The hope is to have this fic done by the time the next season comes out in a month…. Doubtful, but I can dream. Hope you enjoyed!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning

Sabrina had come home Sunday afternoon, her past three nights at the academy satisfying the initial requirements of her deal for dual citizenship. Zelda had been overjoyed when Sabrina announced she was going to stay in and work on the Acheron Configuration instead of going out with her mortal friends as she normally would have done. Perhaps progress was being made after all. 

It had been a relatively calm afternoon that had bled into a calm evening—Zelda had been stunned but relieved…her blood pressure was much too high these days. As she and Hilda settled in for the night though, her sister’s inability to read a book without childish gasps and squeaking was wearing some of that calm feeling thin. 

After yet another squeal, Zelda turned to her roommate. “Oh, for the love of Lucifer, Hilda, will you please calm down?” 

Hilda flushed and fanned herself slightly with the book, “Sorry,” she giggled, turning to Zelda. “It’s just, it’s rather good. Saucy.” She added with a snort that had Zelda rolling her eyes. 

“There’s only one book you should be reading, sister, in light of your excommunication.” Zelda closed the book in her hands and held it up, “our Dark Lord’s Satanic Bible.” She stated archly… though since her break with her faith she’d often swapped book covers and read anything else while pretending it was the Dark Lord’s word. 

She truly did read that horrid book far more than she liked, but to play the part of a devout witch convincingly she had to be able to spout off excerpts from the bloody thing. Also, it wasn’t as if she’d ever admit to borrowing a few of Hilda’s romance novels and reading those when her own books didn’t suffice—saucy indeed. Though Zelda managed to read them without acting like a schoolgirl, her face utterly blank even as she read the most… descriptive scenes. 

Hilda eyed the Satanic Bible and scrunched her nose in poorly concealed distaste—even before her excommunication she’d rarely read the thing. She changed the subject as well, clearly not wanting to have a discussion about the Dark Lord or his word. 

“It’s nice to have Sabrina back home, isn’t it?” Zelda tilted her head slightly in agreement, dropping her gaze and reopening the book. “I missed her terribly,” Hilda added softly, lips pulling up into an affectionate smile. 

Scoffing lightly, Zelda didn’t even lift her eyes off the page. “If Sabrina’s three-day absence so affected you, perhaps your life could do with some more purpose.” She glanced at Hilda as she finished. It was an unnecessarily cruel remark, but she was still raw from her apology for the harrowing and she felt weak and vulnerable because of it. Hilda did nothing to make her feel that way, of course, but the rawness had Zelda slipping in these acidic comments nonetheless in some poor attempt to rebuild her normally prickly walls. 

Hilda sat up a little straighter in bed at that, “actually, now that you mention it… I’ve been thinking about applying for a job at the bookstore in town. Dr. Cerberus’s bookstore.” 

Her eyes widened, Hilda couldn’t seriously be considering immersing herself in the mortal world. Not after barely scraping through the trial. “You mean that hovel run by that lunatic trash peddler who dresses up like a vampire?” He was a truly odd man, of all the magical and mythical beings he’d chosen a vampire. 

Her remark had Hilda wilting slightly, “yeah…” 

“And what about your duties here, at the mortuary?” It was selfish. Zelda knew she was being selfish, but she’d given up midwifery for the family business years ago and had been reminded, not so kindly, just the other night that she once more could not pursue something for herself. Was it wrong of her to want to deny Hilda her desire to pursue her own interests? Absolutely. But a secondary, and more reasonable, part of her also knew that handling the mortuary without Hilda would be difficult, so she did not take the petty, selfish words back. 

Hilda sighed, “for Satan’s sake, Zelda, must you be so negative about every idea I have?” She looked at the ceiling as if begging for patience before gritting through her teeth, “ _honestly! Sometimes, it just makes me want to—_ ” 

Whatever Hilda had been about to say was drowned out by a scream down the hall. They both sat up, alert and before they could do anything else, Sabrina burst into the room, another scream proceeding her. 

“Sabrina?” Zelda asked, already getting out of bed, Hilda following suit. 

Their niece locked the door and pressed her hands against it for a moment. “What’s the matter?” Hilda demanded, flustered. 

Sabrina started to breathlessly explain that she’d solved the Acheron Configuration and, in the process, had managed to loose a demon in the house. Zelda sighed, one evening, was one evening of relative peace too much to ask for? Sabrina hadn’t even been home one night and this. 

Propping herself up against the bed, Zelda pulled her slippers on. “What kind of demon?” She asked tiredly. 

“I don’t know, a demon-demon. A scary demon!” Sabrina exclaimed. 

Zelda suppressed an eye roll, what a wonderfully helpful description that was. “Calm down. If the entity came out of the Acheron Configuration it can be put back into the Configuration.” It was an easy enough solution, she clapped her hands together and approached Sabrina. “Where is it? The puzzle box?” 

The dread that filled Sabrina’s face told Zelda what she needed to know before her niece mumbled, “I must have left it in my room…” 

Alright, well, that made things a bit more difficult but not impossible. Before Zelda could think of a way to recapture the beast, a banging issued from the door. 

“Spellmans….” The voice rasped as the banging continued. 

Frowning, Zelda eyed the door. “Well, this is simply perfect.” She muttered, a demon that knew their name? This situation was rapidly going from bad to worse, a demon shouldn’t know their name, that it did meant it had a grudge. And what had she called the puzzle test just the other day? A win-win? 

She moved to the opposite wall, briskly traced the seam of the hidden door with her finger and pulled the handle that appeared in the middle of the wall. Sabrina looked at the door stunned, by obeyed when Zelda instructed, “follow me, quickly!” The sound of the demon’s nails scratching down the bedroom door and additional banging echoing after them. 

They reappeared in the office downstairs, the bookcase sliding open and back shut once they’d used it, Sabrina’s baffled expression would have amused Zelda under any other circumstance. She ushered them out into the foyer, glancing around for any sign of the demon, but from the shrieks and banging it was still upstairs. 

Ambrose appeared from the basement, Zelda sighed in relief and felt a twinge of guilt for not checking to see if he was in the attic before escaping to the lower level. It didn’t matter now, they were all downstairs. 

“What kind of demon?!” Ambrose demanded, eyes shifting between the three of them and Zelda felt a swell of pride. At least one other person in this family had their wits about them in an emergency. But seeing as they didn’t have the answer, it didn’t matter. 

“Whatever kind it is, we have protocols in place.” She held up her hands to try and calm the rest, Sabrina was still breathing a little heavily and Hilda flinched at every sound issuing from upstairs. 

Her sister looked at her, “we, we do?” 

Honestly, it was as if their family meetings about what to do in case of fire, tornado, possessions and demons were all for naught. She’d have to hold another one after this. 

“We seal the house to contain the entity, to prevent it from escaping into the world where it could cause rampant, wanton chaos.” The others just gave her wide-eyed looks of disbelief… had _none_ of them paid any attention? Why did she bother? 

Ambrose regained himself first, “okay, let’s do this.” He took Zelda’s hand and then reached for Sabrina’s. Zelda smiled slightly at him for his relatively clear thinking and took Hilda’s hand as well. 

They’d just finished the incantation when nails dragged along the railing and the demon hissed, “Spellmans.” Their heads turned slowly, hands still clasped to get their first real look at the dangerous creature running amok in their house. “You’re his family, aren’t you? My captor’s kin. You smell like Spellmans.” The voice was gravelly and hard to listen to, Hilda released her hand and wrapped an arm around Sabrina comfortingly. 

Zelda took a few steps forward and stood between her family and the demon. “Know this, demon. Our house is sealed with an incantation we, _and only we_ , know. If you harm us, you’ll never escape it.” 

It was a good insurance policy, one that Zelda had thought of years ago when she’d been coming up with plans for any and all possible scenarios that may occur while raising a housebound warlock and a half-witch, half-mortal child. The demon was, unsurprisingly, less than pleased by her announcement. 

“Another prison?! No, no, no.” The creature started to descend one of the sets of stairs, but Zelda held firm, keeping herself between the demon and the others. “Edward Spellman imprisoned me in the Acheron puzzle for _70 years_! I’ll **not** be caged again.” 

Ambrose moved a little closer, his hand brushing against Zelda’s in reassurance. “What you do want, Hellspawn?” 

A croaking laugh emitted from the demon as it continued its slow approach. “First, revenge on the family of Edward Spellman.” 

Hilda exhaled sharply through her nose, “did you have to ask, love?” 

“And then, freedom, so I may fill the world with my sublime nightmares.” The demon continued, unphased by Hilda’s interruption. 

But Zelda smirked, the creature had given itself away, she could capture it much easier now that she knew what kind of demon it was. She didn’t need Hilda’s fervent whisper about it being a sleep demon, or the fact that they’d be at the creature’s mercy should it manage to put them to sleep. 

She marched over to the packages that had arrived yesterday and pulled out the first urn she saw, holding it aloft, she started to recite the binding spell that would once more imprison the foul demon. Wind rushed through the foyer and the demon screeched as it was frozen in place before being sucked into the urn. 

Zelda slammed the lid on tight and smiled, her emergency planning had worked. “And _that_ is how you trap a demon.” She stated calmly, turning to face her family, each of whom was in an absurd position. Zelda couldn’t decide which she found more entertaining, the fact that Hilda covered her ears, Ambrose’s mortal fighting stance or Sabrina’s slack jawed expression. 

Nodding, Zelda made for the kitchen, sealing the urn as she went. No reason to risk someone accidently knocking the thing over and setting the demon free. The others followed, Hilda putting on the kettle as the rest of them settled in at the table. 

“A nice cup of tea to soothe the nerves,” Hilda sang softly as she poured the tea for each of them. 

Rolling her eyes, “my nerves are fine, sister. Which is more than I can say for you lot.” Zelda looked around the table at her family. “Running around like headless chickens.” As she sipped her tea, she started planning a new series of family meetings to review their strategic plans, clearly it was needed. 

A Cheshire-like smile spread across Sabrina’s face then. “At least this means Father Blackwood has to let me into conjuring class now, right?” She looked at them all, “I mean, I solved the Configuration.” She added smugly. 

“ _And_ learned a valuable lesson, I hope.” Zelda noted, tilting her head at Sabrina. “Never open a magic box if you don’t know what’s inside it.” 

Sabrina lifted a shoulder in acknowledgment and then furrowed her brow. “One thing I don’t understand… Why would my father trap a demon inside of it?” 

Zelda and Hilda exchanged a look, one of reluctant defeat. Though Edward had been dead a long time now, it was never fun to admit that a sibling had been right all along. 

Sighing, Hilda explained, “your father suffered from terrible insomnia. He always said it was a sleep demon tormenting him.” 

“All those years, we assumed he was being dramatic, but clearly not.” Zelda added, putting her tea down. While she hated to admit she was wrong, she also couldn’t hide the pride in her voice at her next statement. “And clearly, he got the better of it.” 

Ambrose shook his head, “surely, he must have known the Configuration would be opened _one_ day? Why not leave a note?” 

She scoffed lightly, no, Edward was too narcissistic to have left a note. “He likely never imagined that anyone would be canny enough to solve his puzzle.” Zelda turned an appraising eye onto Sabrina and smiled at her proudly. Her girl was clever alright, though they’d have to work on her proactive instead of reactive thinking if Sabrina wanted to study conjuring and demon banishing. 

*Sabrina cocked her head, “my mom was the key.” She announced softly, smiling. 

Zelda’s own smile slipped off her face at the mention of Diana—her feelings still far too mixed when it came to the woman. Hilda just hummed in confusion. Sabrina explained that it had been a sketch in one of Edward’s journals that had given her the clue. Zelda frowned, had her brother felt the need to tinker with the solution to the puzzle nearly 55 years after trapping the demon because he knew no one would guess that Diana was the key? Therefore, ensuring the demon would remain imprisoned? Hilda’s voice pulled her from her thoughts though. 

“Oh, that’s marvelous, isn’t it Zelds?” Hilda seemed a little too self-satisfied that it had taken a half-witch to solve the puzzle. 

She was tempted to say it had nothing to do with Sabrina’s blood and everything to do with her brain, but another sarcastic remark won out. “Yes, it’s divine that Sabrina’s duality almost got us killed.” Again, she added in her head, wondering how bad it was that she was already losing count of the number of times their lives had been in danger since Sabrina had run from her baptism. 

Hilda deflated a bit at her comment, “right… Okay, let’s finish our tea and call it a night, shall we?” 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

She, she was teaching Path of Night school again? Zelda frowned and looked at the children sprawled out on the rug in front of her. This didn’t make sense, she hadn’t taught this since Edward’s death. Her excuse being that she was too busy, which had been true, but she also hadn’t been able to help further the lies spread by the Dark Lord any longer either, especially not to children. 

So this, so this…. She took a fortifying sip of the drink next to her as she held up the book for the children to admire—she must have resumed teaching to try and make up for something. Maybe Sabrina running from her baptism, the results of the trial, helping put a stop to the tradition of harrowing… Yes, that must be it, she’d determined that she needed to reaffirm her faith in the eyes of the coven, and this had been one of the easiest ways. 

Sighing in relief that she’d figured it out, Zelda continued the lesson with the children, only to be interrupted a moment later by the weird sisters appearing in her parlor. 

“Sister Zelda,” they chorused, “we bring you news from the Nine Circles. Our Dark Lord has chosen your house for a special honor. Once a year, he assumes the shape of man to visit his more **devout** disciples and break bread with them.” 

Her head reeled as the trio went on to announce that the Dark Lord had chosen the Spellman home as one of his destinations, how he would honor them with his presence at dinner…. Tonight. 

She knew her face didn’t reflect the joy she ought to feel, if she were a properly devout witch. Knew that it was blank with horror and her eyes shining slightly because of panic induced tears. When the girls left, snapping the doors closed behind them, Zelda sat frozen in fear for a moment. Then she shot up, calling out for the one person who could help her get through this mess. “Hilda? Oh, Hilda?!” 

Thankfully, her sister appeared through one of the doors in the wall, when had they gotten so many doors? Zelda shook herself, they had much more important matters than doors to worry about. 

“The Dark Lord is dining with us,” she announced in a trembling voice, clutching the book she’d been reading to the children tightly to hide her shaking hands. “Tonight! Can you imagine?” 

She certainly could. The Dark Lord would come and see that she was a fraud. That she’d been lying for years to protect her family. But she couldn’t turn him away without the same outcome. So, she tried to convey the expected excitement when she told Hilda of their unwelcome dinner guest. 

But then Hilda suggested vegetable pie and it was all wrong. Satan was an avowed carnivore, only a meat dish would do and if they didn’t serve his favorite, well, he would know for sure that Zelda was a fake. And his favorite… she sighed, eyes landing on the portly child sitting on the floor, still stuffing his face with cakes. 

Beelzebub help her, she’d have to roast the poor thing—but if it was this child or her family… well, so be it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

But he’d spurned her dish, selecting Hilda’s pie and sending Zelda away. She stifled her panic and sobs poorly until she reached the kitchen. Not only had she needlessly sacrificed a child, but also Hilda, sweet Hilda who did not have a wicked bone in her body, was being courted by the Dark Lord. Zelda could hear their flirtations and laughter from the other room. 

No, she couldn’t let that happen. She knew what the Dark Lord was capable of—she couldn’t, wouldn’t, let him take her little sister. Edward would never have allowed such a thing. Then music started to filter into the room, and he requested a dance. 

Zelda gulped and threw down the towel she’d been wringing in her hands. What was she to do? What? She couldn’t think, not with that damned music playing. Covering her ears, Zelda paced the room, but it did nothing. She still couldn’t focus. And she _had_ to focus, had to, Hilda’s life depended on it. Zelda hit herself in the head several times, pain made everything clearer. 

Only, this time it didn’t. She still could not think of how to explain everything to Hilda after all these years of secrets. She needed time to think, to come up with a plan, and she needed Hilda safe and out of the way while she did it. 

And what place was safer then dead and buried in the Cain pit for five hours or so? 

Yes, that would be enough time for Zelda to come up with something. So, she’d watched and waited until the Dark Lord left before stalking up behind Hilda where she stood in the kitchen doing dishes, all but floating after her encounter with the Dark Lord. She swallowed hard and then cracked the shovel over her sister’s head. Hilda crumpled onto the floor, dead from the single blow. 

“You didn’t even want to join the Church of Night.” Zelda whispered wretchedly. Why had her sister suddenly changed her mind that the church and the Dark Lord were such a wonderful thing? Why couldn’t she have kept her opinion that she didn’t really need the church? That would have kept her safe from the Dark Lord’s advances. 

Setting the shovel aside, Zelda grabbed her sister’s wrists and dragged her bodily towards the garden. “You never even loved him,” she sniffed, rolling Hilda into the pit. “He just seduced you, the Dark Lord does that. Seduces you with a belief system, with the chance of love, with power… and then he steals it all away at the smallest slight.” She threw shovels full of dirt on top of her sister. “No, this is for the best, this will keep you safe. You’ll understand one day.” 

She was still cleaning the dirt from under her nails, running through potential explanations in her head when the front door opened and closed. 

“That was a speedy resurrection, sister.” She observed, voice hoarse from crying. 

But it wasn’t Hilda, the Dark Lord had returned already, not even a full hour after he’d left… and he was asking for Hilda. The scrub brush fell from Zelda’s hands with a clatter as she whipped around. She pressed herself back against the counter, hating how vulnerable she felt. 

“I’m not my sister’s keeper.” She tried to sound blithe in her response, but her trembling voice gave her away. Of course, she was, she was her entire family’s keeper… it wouldn’t do to admit that now, however. But the Dark Lord just stared at her. Unnerved, Zelda stuttered, “I, I do—, I don’t know where she is.” 

He saw right through her, he was the Father of Lies, after all. Zelda was quick to apologize for her actions and to try and explain it away as a game she and Hilda played… though it hadn’t felt like a game in years. But her sister always came back, always. No matter what awful thing Zelda did to her, Hilda _always_ came back. 

“Not this time.” The slightly manic smile on her face vanished at the Dark Lord’s words. “This time, she is gone from your life… forever.” 

Grief like she’d never experienced crashed over her, it was worse than when Edward had died. Because while she should have stopped him from getting on that plane, he’d ultimately put himself in the situation that had led to its crash. But with Hilda…. With Hilda it was all her fault. 

Sobs wrenched themselves from her as she dropped to her knees, legs no longer able to support her in her agony. The Dark Lord looked down at her in disgust before spinning on his heel and walking away. Zelda paid him no mind, curling into herself, wailing and the occasional ‘no’ escaping her lips. 

A hand was suddenly on her shoulder, long and clawed, the voice it belonged to crooned to her, “poor Zelda.” 

When she turned her head to find the source she gasped, a demon, a demon… that damned demon that she’d trapped? How was this possible? How was it that it was demanding the spell to unlock the house, promising to bring Hilda back to life. But even in her grief-stricken state, Zelda knew that nothing could bring Hilda back. 

She’d lost her sister for good, so what was the point of helping this demon? She deserved this hell, she did. So, instead of helping this demon, she screamed, sobbed and screamed some more, arms curling around her stomach as she pitched sideways so that she could pull her knees up as well. 

The demon scoffed and pulled away, muttering to itself. “Too much, too much. Out of practice from 70 years in that prison. I broke her too quickly…” But then it stopped its pacing. “No, not too much. You **deserve** this. You’re just like your bastard brother. Too clever, too strong. You’re the one that sealed the house, that trapped me again. Well, while you may have been the only one with wits enough to trap me… you aren’t the only one who can release me.” The demon tilted its head to a near 90-degree angle, “maybe I’ll go check on your niece and nephew.” It taunted, baring its pointed teeth. 

Zelda lifted her head from the ground at that. “No,” she whimpered, “not the kids. Not my kids.” 

Batibat cackled, “they’re not yours, Zelda. Never have been, never will be,” she intoned sinisterly. “They’re just the awful offspring of your horrid brothers. They asked you to watch over them, didn’t they? And oh, how you’ve failed. One housebound and bitter and the other who can’t stand the sight of you? On top of all that they’re trapped in my nightmares as well…oh, how you have failed Zelda Spellman.” 

She shrank from the accusations, fingers tightening their grip on her dress. “No, no that’s not true. I’ve done right by them. Done the best I could.” She whispered, almost to herself. 

Moving so that she towered over Zelda, Batibat leered, “is that what you did for Hilda?” She asked, pointing to the corner where her sister’s dead body had just appeared. “The best you could,” the words come out mockingly, sounding petulant in the demon’s mouth. 

Flinching at the evidence of her failure, Zelda turned her head away, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. 

“Face it, Spellman, you’re a failure. You hurt your family, over and over. And on those rare occasions when you do protect them, they spurn you for it.” Batibat danced away a bit and then crouched in front of her. “A reject and a failure… no wonder you broke first.” The demon spat, before standing up and stalking out of the room. 

Zelda shivered and tried to make herself as small physically as she felt… Batibat was right, she deserved this. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Lilith should have left the dreamscape immediately after waking Sabrina. This was still Batibat’s domain, and in her astral form Lilith had no real power to pull from to protect herself should Batibat make good on the threats she’d made. 

But there was one Spellman she hadn’t run into while searching for Sabrina. And Lilith loathed to pass up the opportunity to gain insight into the Spellman matriarch’s mind. That, and well, the woman had captured her attention the other night. She hadn’t been fooled by Lilith’s smooth voice and the lie that had fallen readily from her lips. Zelda’s resistance to one of her succubus tricks had intrigued her. 

The eldest Spellman was powerful, hellishly so, and Lilith had never felt anything quite like it. If the Dark Lord wanted another soldier, why not just pick an extremely formidable witch that was already devoted to him? Instead of this moody teenager who would likely be much more trouble than she was worth even after she’d signed. And, not that it mattered, Lilith had a feeling that under the right circumstances she and Zelda would get along wonderfully. But it wasn’t Lilith’s job to question her master, so she let the matter lie… to an extent, she was still in the dreamscape, after all. 

What she found, though, shocked her. 

She knew Batibat’s abilities allowed her to prey on the most vulnerable aspects of an individual’s mind, taking the deepest fears and then twisting them further. But to witness how quickly, how easily, the demon had shattered Zelda… it brought Lilith no joy. No joy to see such a powerful woman curled into the fetal position on the ground, taking great gulping breaths between sobs. 

The fact that Batibat had been able to accomplish this with so little resistance indicated two things. One, that the demon was out of practice and had overdone the nightmare, expecting, as Lilith had, that Zelda would be the most difficult to break—it didn’t help her in any way to completely break a subject like this, not when trying to extract information; this made the demon all the more dangerous to the outside world should she escape. And two, that there was much more to Zelda Spellman then Lilith had given her credit for. She wouldn’t have thought the death of a family member to be the witch’s greatest fear, after already losing so many the pain could hardly be novel… though to be fair she’d missed everything in the nightmare leading to Zelda’s current state, multiple factors likely caused this. Nonetheless, she stored the information away for future reference. 

Kneeling, Lilith hesitantly reached out her hand and stroked the red locks back from Zelda’s face. The witch didn’t even move, just kept staring vacantly ahead as tears poured down her face. Irritated that she’d even made the effort to comfort when it yielded no result, Lilith manhandled Zelda into a sitting position, brushing off her clothes and smoothing back her hair a bit. 

Zelda remained upright, but sobs continued to wrack the woman’s body, threatening to send her toppling back over. 

Though she wanted to help, the family did not deserve to pay for the mistakes of their dead former patriarch, Lilith was running out of patience. She knew this wasn’t how the redhead normally acted, that it was all the nightmare, but still. 

Snapping her fingers in front of the woman’s face, Lilith scolded her. “Now really, Zelda. Out of everyone I thought you would be the strongest, the hardest to break. You need to pull yourself together.” This seemed to get through to a small piece of the regular Zelda; she stopped crying at least, her breathing evened out—only the occasional hitch in it, though her chin was still quivering. 

“There we are,” Lilith smiled encouragingly, rubbing her hands along Zelda’s upper arms. “This will all end soon, I promise.” She felt absurd doing this, but women needed to stick together in this realm and every realm, so she remained there for another minute until she sensed another presence entering the nightmare. 

It only took her a moment to figure out who it was, and Lilith growled in frustration. She had specifically told Sabrina **not** to go back to sleep—was this how Zelda felt all the time? Dealing with her wayward niece? Lilith sighed and brushed her fingers along Zelda’s cheek, knowing the woman wouldn’t remember Lilith’s intrusion into her nightmare. 

“I am sorry you must deal with Sabrina’s insubordinate behavior on a daily basis, how you manage not to put her in that marvelous Cain pit of yours every other day is beyond me. Just know that I too am working to get her to sign the Book of the Beast.” She stood then and hid around the corner just as Sabrina rushed in, dropping to her knees in front of her aunt. 

It was then that Lilith realized the girl was lucid dreaming and searching for help, perhaps she was cleverer than she appeared… likely the influence of Zelda. But it was no use, though Zelda was much improved from just a moment before, she was still in no state to assist her niece. Pity, she would have been Lilith’s first choice in allies as well… too bad Batibat had ravaged Zelda’s mind so quickly. 

Clicking her tongue softly in disappointment, Lilith left to return to the waking realm before anything noticed her presence. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Zelda shuddered from the phantom touch to her cheek and blinked. But whatever had caused it was gone. She would have suspected it was something sinister had she not felt better now than she had throughout this entire ordeal. 

The feeling lasted only mere seconds though, Sabrina was suddenly in front of her and dread filled Zelda. No, her girl couldn’t be here, couldn’t know what she’d done. Sabrina hated her enough as it was, she would never speak to Zelda again when she realized Hilda was dead by her hand. 

But she couldn’t hide the truth, Sabrina hated it when she hid the truth. So, she tearfully confessed her crimes, Sabrina’s face hardening as her gaze found Hilda’s body. 

“Aunt Zelda, you’re in a nightmare. _None_ of this is real. Hilda is alive and sleeping next to you, I promise!” Sabrina exclaimed, touching her hand and Zelda flinched back expecting only more pain. Sabrina’s expression softened for a second but then hardened once more. “I don’t have much time and I need your help. There’s a sleep demon in our house. She’s the one who put you in this nightmare and I **need you** to tell me how to defeat her.” 

She knew better then to believe this version of Sabrina. Her niece was never so understanding of what Zelda did…. This, this was just another trick of the demon’s, a way to trick her into unsealing the house. No, she wouldn’t do that, she wouldn’t. 

So, she crawled over to her sister, sobs and apologies falling from her lips as she pressed against Hilda’s side for comfort. She’d meant to protect and all she’d done was destroy. When she lifted her eyes once more Sabrina was gone… not that it was a surprise, but the abandonment still cut deeply. Zelda was truly and irrevocable alone. 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Zelda woke with a strangled gasp and laid motionless for a moment, trying to reorient herself. She sat up slowly and shifted to see Hilda breathing a little heavily, but awake, on her side of the room. Relief washed over her, and Zelda’s first instinct was to hug her sister and apologize. She was part way to throwing back the covers and doing just that, but Hilda’s look of horror froze her to the spot. 

“I just had the, the most vivid dream.” Hilda murmured, not looking at Zelda but past her, as if she couldn’t stand to make eye contact. Batibat’s words of rejection echoed in Zelda’s mind and she swallowed hard. 

“Yes, so did I.” At her response, however, Hilda’s eyes jerked to hers and they made the same realization. They both gasped their niece’s name and hurried out of bed and downstairs after finding Sabrina’s room empty. 

They ran into Batibat on their way to the kitchen, trapped in an extraordinary amount of spider webs, a small smile tugged at Zelda’s lips, her girl was clever. Just then Sabrina came back, frowning at the various objects she was carrying in her arms. 

When she saw them, however, she inhaled and dropped them, engulfing both of them in a single hug. “Aunties! It worked, oh, thank Satan.” She pulled back and smiled, “I used what you both said to recapture Batibat.” She grinned and gestured unnecessarily to the demon stuck in the parlor doorway. “I just wasn’t sure what to hold her in.” Sabrina bent over and started to pick up the items she’d grabbed from the kitchen. 

Hilda tutted, “not my good Tupperware!” She snatched several pieces from Sabrina and marched them back into the kitchen. 

Sabrina huffed in amusement and turned to look at Zelda, wanting to share the moment of amused disbelief. Zelda managed a half smile that didn’t reach her eyes, Sabrina’s expression turned to one of concern but before she could push the subject, Hilda came back holding a mason jar. 

“There, this’ll work much better.” She smiled and handed Zelda the jar to retrap the beast. Ambrose joined them then, shook his head and made for the kitchen, likely to get some alcohol, Zelda was sure she wouldn’t be far behind him. 

Quickly imprisoning Batibat once more, Zelda followed the others to the kitchen and placed the jar on the table. She was checking the lid for the fourth time as they sat at there, needing to ensure that the demon would not be getting out again, when Ambrose raised a brow at her. She merely stated, “not as intricate as an Acheron Configuration, but a jam jar will do just as well.” He inclined his head at her and took another drink. 

Hilda glanced at her and smiled before turning back to wrapping up Sabrina’s forearm, the girl having sustained an injury during her time fighting the sleep demon. Zelda kept her eyes averted, taking drink of the whiskey Ambrose had been kind enough to pour for her. 

There was a moment of contemplative silence, each of them still lost in the nightmares. Zelda looked up then, finally making eye contact with her niece. 

“I, um,” she fumbled, but pushed forward. “I owe you an apology, Sabrina. When you came to me, in my dream, I was… lily-livered. Hysterical. Cowardly.” Zelda was about to continue, say she was useless and hadn’t been able to protect her. And that was her role in this family, as head of the house, she was the protector. Hilda was the caregiver, the nurturing one, and sometimes Zelda begrudged her for it. For how easily emotions came to her sister, how freely she felt she was able to express them. Perhaps that was one of the reasons she was so cruel…. Something she hoped to rectify soon. 

But Sabrina interrupted her, “only in the dream, Aunt Zelda. _Only_ in that terrible dream.” 

Zelda dropped her eyes back to her drink, undeserving of Sabrina’s soft tone and absolution. Though Sabrina had brushed away her apology, implied that none of them could be held responsible for how they acted, Zelda knew that wasn’t true. Both Hilda and Ambrose had managed to be clear-headed enough in the midst of their nightmares to assist Sabrina. Only Zelda had been lost… had failed. 

Silence fell over them once more after Sabrina assured them that she didn’t remember what they had all dreamed of… Zelda didn’t believe her, but she could see that Hilda and Ambrose were relieved by the statement, so she said nothing. They remained there for some time, drinking tea or whiskey, none of them quite willing to be on their own quite yet. 

Eventually, though, Zelda looked at the clock and groaned. “Alright, time for bed.” No one argued, just stood, a little unwillingly, and made their way upstairs. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Sabrina called Harvey the moment she was alone again, she knew it was late but she _had_ to hear his voice. When he sleepily bade her goodnight, stating that he would see her in the morning in Wardwell’s class, a shock spiked through Sabrina. In the mayhem of the demon she had completely forgotten that Wardwell was the one who had woken her to begin with… but how had she known they were in trouble? And how had she had the means to help? 

Swinging her legs off the bed, Sabrina got dressed again, there were questions that Ms. Wardwell had to answer, and she certainly wasn’t going to wait until morning to ask them. She paused when she heard the creak of her aunts’ door and the murmur of voices. A bit of guilt pinched at her, she knew one of them would come to check on her… most likely Aunt Zelda, and she couldn’t risk them finding out where she’d gone or why. 

So, she’d called Salem to her, instructed him to stay in the bed and glammered him once more to take her likeness. Standing back Sabrina checked her work, it looked like she was asleep in bed. Nodding to herself at a job well done, Sabrina flicked off her light and carefully climbed out her window. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Zelda made it to the room first, and hurriedly opened her trunk, pulled out her flog and hid it in the folds of her robe as Hilda entered. “I forgot something downstairs. I’ll be back in a bit,” Zelda stated already moving past her sister to the door. Hilda eyed her but nodded, heavy-lidded from the foxglove she had taken, and headed to bed. Zelda paused in the hallway as she noticed the light seeping out from under Sabrina’s door, moments later, though, the light went out. 

Another ten minutes passed before Zelda risked cracking open Sabrina’s door, her niece had refused the foxglove Hilda had offered everyone, explaining that she’d used some to lucid dream and didn’t want to risk taking any more. But from the even breaths coming from the bed, Sabrina was fast asleep. 

Zelda entered carefully and stood next to Sabrina’s bed, gently brushing back a stray lock of hair from her face. “I’m so sorry, little one,” she whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I failed you tonight, but it won’t happen again— _I swear_.” She pressed a featherlight kiss to Sabrina’s forehead and then left, quietly closing the door behind her. 

Sniffling a little, Zelda then poked her head into Ambrose’s room, his snores greeted her, though she resisted entering even further. Ambrose was a much lighter sleeper and would likely wake if she tried to kiss his forehead, and after everything they’d been through her family deserved some sleep. A faint smile tugged at her lips briefly at a particularly loud snore and Zelda closed his door before making her way to the basement where she wouldn’t disturb anyone. 

She’d failed tonight. As a witch, an aunt, the protector of this family. Her little girl had come to her scared and looking for help and she’d failed her—too lost in her own nightmare to be of any help. 

It was still unclear how they’d gone from sealing the house and her trapping Batibat in the urn to the nightmares. Perhaps Sabrina had never had the chance to warn them and it’d all been part of the nightmare all along… but then how had they sealed the house? 

Frustrated, Zelda threw her robe onto the exam table and speared her hands through her hair before snatching up the flog once more…not even bothering to count the strokes as she turned the night’s events over in her head again and again, trying to piece together what had happened. What had gone wrong. 

The incantation sealing Batibat in the house had worked, that much was undeniable. It was why they’d been thrown into the nightmares in the first place. Zelda recited the spell she’d used to capture the demon in the urn, unable to see where she’d gone wrong with that. And from what Sabrina had told them, she’d used the exact spell Zelda had when trapping Batibat the second time, recalling what Zelda had done and mimicking it. 

She’d sealed the urn too, the container’s lid not nearly tight enough for her and the possibility of it being knocked off too high. Her arm continued to move mechanically as she reviewed the spell she’d used on the urn and was unable to see where she’d messed up. 

Where had she gone wrong? Where? Where? Where? The whip connecting with her back with each word. 

The urn. Her arm stopped at the realization. In her haste to trap the demon, she hadn’t checked the composition of the urn she’d selected, she’d just assumed it was gold and therefore resilient enough to hold Batibat. But looking back, Zelda realized it was one of the prop urns they’d ordered to have on display in the office for clients—one that looked real but wasn’t in case any clients had sticky fingers. She’d trapped the damned thing in a container made of nickel with a faux gold finish, no wonder Batibat had gotten loose again. Sealed lid or no, nickel simply could not hold a demon… it was demonology 101. 

*Glass, silver, gold, and a host of other metals could hold demons, while nickel, tin, wood and other more common household items could not. There were theories about why this was, something to do with how the Mother of Demons enchanted her children to protect them from the absurd number of overenthusiastic clergymen who’d been running around centuries ago. Blaming everything on Satan and performing exorcisms and banishments with abandon. They didn’t often find a real case of demon presence or possession, but in case they did, the Mother of Demons saw to it that common items could not contain her children—and seeing as clergymen were often poor and often did not have access to precious metals or glass... Well, while her children might be momentarily confined in whatever the clergymen used, they would soon be running freely amongst the mortals and causing chaos. 

How could she have been so careless as to not check the container once she’d captured the beast? Choosing the urn at first wasn’t the problem. It was that she hadn’t ensured that the urn could continue to hold the demon afterwards… how could she? 

Her arm resumed its motion, hitting harder than before in retribution for her laziness, her recklessness and what it had cost her family. She continued for some time, only stopping when her arm trembled and burned with fatigue, her back littered with wounds, blood trickling hotly from more of them than not. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The next morning Sabrina turned to her at the breakfast table, “Auntie? Can you, can you talk to Father Blackwood today? Make sure that he adds conjuring to my schedule? I don’t want to go in later this week and have to miss out on more classes because I have to fight with him about it.” 

Zelda arched a brow, “you made a deal with him, he said if you solved the Configuration you could be in the class. I don’t see why he wouldn’t—” 

Sabrina leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table as she implored her aunt. “Please? I know what he said, and I’m sure he’ll honor the deal…eventually. But he listens to you and you’re helping Lady Blackwood with her baby, so it’ll go so much faster and easier if you bring it up…” Her niece gave her the biggest puppy dog eyes, as Hilda liked to call them, and smiled sweetly. 

Rolling her eyes, Zelda lifted her paper back up. “Fine. I wanted to search the library for new midwifery books anyway, though I doubt anything has changed in my years of retirement, it never hurts to check.” 

Her girl whooped and bounced out of her chair, “thank you Auntie Zee!” She crowed, far more excited about this class than Zelda would have anticipated. “Alright, I’m off to school. But we’ll talk tonight about conjuring, right?” Sabrina looked at her hopefully and picked up her bookbag. 

Smiling, Zelda nodded. “Of course, I’ll pick up any books and coursework you may need to catch up while I’m at the academy. And we can work our way through them.” Sabrina beamed and thanked her again, pecked her and Hilda on the cheek before racing out the front door. 

Hilda looked at the door and shook her head. “Someone is in a chipper mood, all things considered.” 

Zelda merely hummed and went to collect the Configuration from Sabrina’s room as proof. Too busy suppressing how happy Sabrina’s new enthusiasm for the witching realm, despite her recent encounter with a demon, had made her to respond further. 

She’d gone to the academy's library first and found two books on midwifery, though from her brief perusal of them it didn’t seem as though she’d learn anything new. Zelda then made her way to Faustus’ office and knocked on his door this time, waiting patiently, her bag of books slung over one arm. 

He frowned when he saw her, but admitted her just the same, stepping aside and allowing her to sweep past him. 

“Zelda, what can I do for you now?” Faustus asked, arching a brow as he leaned against the front of his desk while she took a seat. 

A smug smile lifted the corner of her lips and she reached into her bag and pulled out the now open Acheron Configuration, setting the device on his desk. The way his eyes widened made Zelda chuckle. “I take it Sabrina can expect to be in conjuring class later this week?” 

Faustus snatched up the puzzle and turned it over in his hands, still struck silent. “What?” The question came out more like a demand and a growl than anything, and Zelda smirked, proud that her girl had solved something in days that a several centuries old warlock hadn’t been able to in years. 

“Yes,” she confirmed coolly, “my niece is quite clever. Now, are there any books or coursework I can take with me so she can start catching up?” 

He didn’t move immediately, still examining the device. “When did she solve it?” Faustus looked up at her. 

Memories from the night before assailed her, swallowing and averting her eyes, “last night.” She informed him primly. But he knew her too well, could read her tells, Faustus put down the puzzle and touched her hand. 

“Are you alright?” He asked softly, brushing this thumb against the back of her hand. 

Her hand twitched at the touch, Batibat’s clawing fingers still too prominent in her mind for her to distinguish the comforting touch he was providing from the demon's. “Of course,” she tried to sound scornful. That the idea of her being anything but fine was ludicrous. Her declaration didn’t come across nearly as affronted as she’d intended, though. Standing and rounding the chair, Zelda smoothed her dress. “If there are no conjuring books or work that Sabrina needs—” Her sentence trailed off and Faustus frowned slightly but stood and gathered some materials. 

“It will replace her Latin course.” He murmured, handing her several things which she slipped into her bag along with her midwifery books. "You were right about her being able to test out of it." 

Zelda nodded and turned to leave. She was almost to the door when Faustus caught her elbow. She squeezed her eyes shut and then turned to look at him. 

Faustus led her to the couch, and she had a quick flashback to when he’d done the same thing over 10 years ago and asked if he could formerly court her. His voice brought her back to the present. “Zels, you’re obviously not okay. You didn't even gloat when I said you were right. What is going on?” He questioned softly, eyes forward as if he knew looking at her directly would spook her, though his hand did slide from her elbow down to her wrist, one finger stroking her pulse point when it reached its destination. 

She moved to leave, not wanting to stay there where he could so easily monitor her reactions with his finger on her pulse. His hand clamped down on her wrist, “Zelda…” And there was that soft tone again, the one that used to always draw her in. Turned out that it still could, Zelda sank back into the couch and he loosened his grip and resumed brushing his fingers along her skin. “Something is bothering you, I know you’ll just bottle it up if you don’t talk about it. And Satan knows there are precious few you’d ever consider talking to.” 

Was she really that obvious? Was she such an open book these days that he could tell that her mind kept drifting back to their encounter with the demon; her nightmares flooding her senses even now. “I assure you, I don’t know what—” 

He exhaled in exasperation and turned to face her. “Must you always be so difficult?” He sounded irritated, well that made two of them. Who did he think he was that he could ask these things of her, ask her to still be emotionally vulnerable with him (to the extent that she was vulnerable with anyone, which wasn’t very)? “We were once close, Zels,” he noted, as if reading her mind, before catching her eye; she looked obstinately forward. “You can still come to me, confide in me.” He tried again. 

Zelda wanted to laugh, she’d never confided in him, not truly. Well…. Perhaps a little. About the stresses she felt from her various responsibilities. About her worries that she’d never be a good mother to Sabrina. About… well, maybe she had confided in him, turned to him for support for things she’d once been accustomed to shouldering alone; and had shouldered alone since she’d ended things. But she’d never truly confided in him, not about the biggest, heaviest burden Edward had left her, not about her break in her faith. 

But she knew Faustus wouldn’t let the matter drop and if she didn’t give him something he’d start to dig. And that was the last thing she needed. Really, what was it to confess, at least part, of what had happened last night? So, she pressed her lips together and turned to him. 

“Was it that apparent? That something is bothering me?” She asked, buying herself some time to determine how much she wanted to share. 

Faustus smiled at her then and lifted a hand and tucked some hair behind her ear tenderly. “Only to someone who knows you well—so, very few.” 

Shivers raced down her spine at the touch and she had to force herself to focus. Surely, he had a motive, for prying. But she couldn’t think of one. Perhaps… perhaps he still harbored _some_ feelings towards her, Satan knew why, but could he truly be motivated by wanting to ease whatever was bothering her? The patient look in his eye and how his fingers played with the end of the strand of hair he’d tucked away had her stupidly wanting to believe that he still cared in some capacity. 

It was this childish wish that had Zelda opening up. “If you must know, you should be glad that you didn’t solve the Acheron Configuration.” Faustus furrowed his brow and opened his mouth, but she forestalled him by lifting her free hand. “Edward trapped a sleep demon inside and neglected to tell anyone, the bastard.” 

Faustus’ eyebrows shot up, “a sleep demon?” Intrigued he scooted closer, his leg pressing against hers from hip to knee. 

“Yes, we were up half the night sealing the house and re-trapping the cursed thing.” She admitted, and though she longed to discuss her nightmare, how much it had shaken her, discuss the guilt that still sat heavy in her chest at her failure, Zelda said no more on the subject. “If it seems like something is bothering me, it’s because I’m tired Faustus. Nothing more.” 

He smiled impressed, and then eyed her, as if suddenly realizing that she wasn’t telling the whole truth, but he let it slide knowing if he pushed too far he wouldn't be able to talk her into staying. “Well done, though I’m not surprised that you recaptured the beast. The realms are better off without another sleep demon in their midst. You have the gratitude of the church.” He murmured, and when his eyes flickered to her lips and he started leaning in, she didn’t stop him, didn't want to. 

Not today, not when she needed whatever comforting contact she could get—even if it came at a price. If it could chase away the fear, the rejection, the insecurity that was roiling through her then she was more than willing to pay. 

But as his hand slid up her arm and onto her back to draw her in, Zelda gasped at the pain that erupted from her ravaged back. The pain, as always, clarified everything for the moment. She couldn’t. Not after all this time, not after all she’d given up to ensure her family’s safety. She couldn’t give in to him again, no matter how much she wanted to, no matter how kind he was being. He would always have to be the one that she let get away. 

And though ending up with her dress rucked up around her hips as she rode the high priest on the couch in his office was a deliciously enticing picture, it was one she couldn’t, wouldn’t, risk. 

She pulled away, “no gratitude necessary, Father Blackwood, but appreciated.” She murmured, standing up and giving him a close-lipped smile as she stepped away from the couch and his magnetic presence. “I will make sure Sabrina is ready to start her conjuring class the next time she is at the academy.” Zelda nodded and picked up the bag she’d let fall to the floor when they first sat down. 

Faustus blinked, clearly thrown by her sudden change, but nodded slowly. “Of course, see that she is ready, Zelda. The term has been in progress for over a month now, she will need the help.” 

A part of her withered a little at his reaction. She should be glad that he followed her lead, hadn’t pressured her. And yet, yet part of her wished that he’d be bold and grab her, tug her into his lap and kiss her hotly. Only breaking their lips to tell her that he’d wanted her all along and not Constance. 

It was foolish, though, and Zelda Spellman was many things, but foolish wasn’t one of them. And despite what Hilda had said all those years ago, it wasn’t alright for her to want this, to want love; not when it could come at such a high price. So, she hurried away before her resolve crumbled and she threw herself at the man she’d never really moved on from to begin with. 

Instead she rushed home and buried herself in work, buried herself in her midwifery books, and buried herself in reviewing Sabrina’s lesson materials so that she could help her niece when she got home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** I needed an explanation for how Diana was the key to unlocking this puzzle Edward created _long_ before he even met her, and for how they ended up in the nightmares, based on what they showed us, they never should have been trapped in the nightmares…hope my ‘explanation’ makes sense. Hope you enjoyed.


	15. Chapter 15

After their encounter with Batibat, Zelda was grateful for a few peaceful and routine-filled days. Business at the mortuary continued as usual, until her sister marched into the office and informed her that she was, in fact, going into town and applying for the position at the bookstore. 

“It’s not like I can return to midwifing like you did, Zelda. No one will want an excommunicated witch delivering their child.” Hilda added with a decisive nod and standing up straighter. 

Setting down her pen, Zelda pushed her glasses up into her hair and cocked her head to study her sister. It was a sound argument, and though she wanted to keep her family from meddling with mortal affairs, she was trying to be better since the nightmare. Which was why she’d held out her hand and offered to revise Hilda’s resume. 

Stunned, Hilda handed over the paper and promptly sat in one of the chairs across from the desk, nervously picking at her hands as Zelda read through the document. 

Zelda furrowed her brow when she reached the end of the page, “this is it?” She lifted her gaze to her sister, incredulous. “Hilda, you’ve left off so much. You’ve been helping run a business for decades. Well,” she paused and considered her statement, “you can’t say decades, that would raise flags. But there are many skills you’ve acquired over the years that you neglected to list.” 

“But we run a mortuary, not a bookstore, Zelds.” Hilda pointed out, baffled. 

Waving a hand, Zelda started to make notes in the margins. “Nonsense, you can easily tweak the skills you have so they apply. This store holds events, yes?” Zelda looked to Hilda and she nodded weakly in return. “You plan and host funerals, or events, all the time; that’s relevant. You also know how to assist clients, or whatever they’re called at a bookstore.” Tapping the pen to her chin, Zelda then made a few more notes. “If that odd man still finds issue with it, what you lack in _exact_ experience you can certainly make up for in enthusiasm. Besides, you’re a quick learner.” Zelda handed the resume back and smiled thinly at Hilda. 

Her sister just stared at her, reaching, almost unconsciously, for the resume and taking it back. Hilda opened her mouth to respond, but Zelda but her off. 

“Now, if you’ve got nothing else, I still have a business to manage.” She raised a brow and picked up the phone, acting as though she had phone calls to make. 

Shaking her head, Hilda grasped Zelda’s hand and squeezed it briefly before leaving, likely to go use Ambrose’s laptop to revise her resume. 

Zelda watched Hilda leave and something inside her clenched painfully at the thought of her sister leaving, it felt like too close of a parallel to her dream. But Zelda knew if she tried to hold onto Hilda tighter, she would lose her for good… and she wasn’t strong enough to lose another family member, under any circumstance. 

Sighing, she returned the phone to the receiver and turned back to the paperwork in front of her, she needed to get this done before Lady Blackwood’s appointment this afternoon. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Constance held her breath as Zelda bent over her stomach, trying to find a heartbeat, figuring it would be easier to hear without the sound of her lungs in the background. But her efforts were for naught, Faustus kept pestering the woman, asking her what she heard. Constance couldn’t see Zelda’s face, but she could practically hear the woman roll her eyes in exasperation. 

His insistence on being there was new. Yes, he’d shown interest in her previous pregnancies, having an heir was important to him and Constance knew, if nothing else, Faustus would love and dote on their child. But he’d never pushed to come to her appointments before. 

Perhaps it was because this was their third attempt and he felt if he showed up to these things it would somehow alter the outcome. Or perhaps, it was due to the one change from her previous pregnancies… the person conducting the appointments. 

Zelda’s voice interrupted her thoughts, “there’s a heartbeat.” She announced confidently, a smile on her face. “Just as there was the last time.” She looked at Faustus and raised a brow as if to say he was worrying for nothing; Constance could have told him that. 

Sighing in relief, some of the tension drained out of Faustus. “Praise Satan. How long before we can determine its sex?” He questioned, and now Constance wanted to roll her eyes. Men and their need for male heirs. 

“It’s still a bit too early in Lady Blackwood’s gestation,” Zelda warned them, replacing her earring. “But I’ll collect a urine sample and see what we can find out.” The woman smiled at Constance knowingly, as if they were having the same thought about male heirs. And though Constance didn’t want to, she found herself liking Zelda in that moment. 

Not to be deterred, though, Faustus pressed on. “What about Lady Blackwood’s blood pressure? Earlier today she felt faint.” 

Another kind of smile crept onto Zelda’s face, one that seemed to find Faustus’ concern sweet, and the feeling of comradery Constance had a moment before disappeared. Regardless of that smile, Zelda shooed Faustus away, suggesting he give them space so the exam could be conducted in a more efficient manner. 

Constance should be relieved Zelda was sending him away, but the fact that she could order Faustus around displeased Constance, no one should be able to do that but her…. And even she couldn’t. Needing to act as though she had some say in the matter, Constance spoke up. 

“It’s fine, Faustus. Take some air.” 

He seemed reluctant to go, but nodded, “very well. I’ll be outside.” He lingered a moment longer, watching Zelda with an intensity the situation didn’t warrant, but eventually he brushed past her and left. 

As soon as the door closed, Constance pulled her shirt shut and murmured, “it’s a rather trying time for us.” Why she’d shared this she wasn’t sure, it wasn’t as though Zelda would acknowledge or was even aware of her part in the ever-growing rift between her and her husband. Of course, the rift had always been there, but now it was expanding, and Constance couldn’t help but blame Zelda and her renewed presence in Faustus’ life. 

“Carrying a child of night to term _should_ be the most joyous 13 months in a witch’s life.” Zelda replied from behind her, and Constance could hear the soft clinking of bottles as Zelda prepared a potion, likely for her blood pressure. 

And though Constance was conflicted about Zelda, she found herself opening up to her. “I agree. Except, two of our children have already been called home by the Dark Lord before their births.” This wasn’t a topic she discussed much it was painful, but for some reason she felt Zelda would understand. 

Constance peeked over her shoulder and saw a sympathetic expression on the woman’s face. “The high priest told me,” she murmured, “I’m so very sorry.” And the sincerity in her tone almost made it alright that Faustus had told her about the lost babes. 

Shifting on the table, Constance looked back at the ceiling. “Of course, he told you,” she muttered, playing with the buttons on her shirt. “Why?” 

Zelda resumed working on the potion, “I was reluctant to come out of retirement. I hadn’t practiced in years and delivering the high priest’s child is a daunting responsibility. But he explained you both had, had lost your previous children. I, I didn’t want you to have to experience that again, not if I could help. I am sorry if you feel as though my knowing violates your privacy, but it did convince me, and I hope that makes a difference for this child.” 

Damn these pregnancy hormones, Constance was starting to like this woman again. Blinking away tears, Constance continued, “my husband wants a son, Sister Zelda. A male heir…” Constance would settle for a living babe, she didn’t care the gender. 

Coming back to stand by her, Zelda patted her leg soothingly. “Well, we’ll know soon enough if it is the Dark Lord’s will.” She handed her the specimen jar to fill. 

Nodding, Constance sat up, with Zelda’s help, and got slowly off the table. Undecided whether Zelda was a bigger threat or asset to her, Constance thanked her and made for the bathroom. 

~~~~~~~~~ 

Zelda went upstairs to update Faustus while Constance was in the bathroom and cleaning herself up. She found him pacing in the garden. “Faustus,” she called out softly. 

He turned sharply to face her, “is everything alright? The babe?” 

The concern radiating off him made her smile, she closed some of the distance between them and squeezed his forearm. “The babe is fine, Faustus. As far as I can tell it is healthy and growing as it should. Once I run the tests on Constance’s sample I will know more and inform you immediately.” 

Slumping against the fence, Faustus pinched the bridge of his nose. “I just, don’t want to lose another one.” He murmured, “I know I’m being overbearing, but Lady Blackwood _did_ feel faint this morning. And I thought, I thought she might be losing—” He trailed off, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. 

“I will do everything in my power to ensure your child is safely delivered into this world, Faustus.” She ducked her head to catch his eye and he smiled slightly. “But you do need to relax, your stress does not help Constance’s and therefore does not help the baby.” She gripped his hand where it lay on his arm, “alright?” 

A sigh escaped him, and he nodded raising his eyes to meet hers directly. “Thank you, Zelda. I cannot say it enough.” And before she could process it, he’d pushed off the fence and engulfing her in a hug, her head tucked neatly under his chin, and his arms banding warmly across her mid- and lower back. She couldn’t help how her arms automatically came up and encircled him in return. “Thank you,” he breathed once more and released her, smiling softly and cupping her cheek before heading back to the house. 

Swallowing, Zelda fought a blush and followed, only to see Constance exiting the front door and making her way slowly down the porch steps with Faustus assisting her. Though they’d done nothing improper, Zelda couldn’t help the worry building inside her that Constance had seen them. 

Not long after the Blackwoods left, Hilda returned from town, practically glowing as she came into the kitchen. 

“Zelds, I got the job!” She announced, grin widening even as she wrung her hands with nerves. 

Letting the paper droop, Zelda cocked her head at her sister. “Of course, you did. You were overqualified for the position; the man would have to be an idiot not to hire you.” She flicked the paper back up, but not before she saw Hilda’s nose wrinkle in joy at her comment. 

And though she couldn’t see Hilda anymore, she could feel her sister hovering indecisively; trying to determine if she was going to hug Zelda or not. Ultimately, Hilda just flapped her hands slightly, murmured a ‘thanks, Zelds,’ and busied herself with the batch of lemons she’d moved to the kitchen that morning. 

This was good, Zelda reminded herself, it was. Hilda was clearly happy about it and it was an acceptable alternative to midwifery. Perhaps a little too mortal, but what choice had the Church of Night left her sister in terms of employment when they excommunicated her? 

They spent the next 20 minutes in companionable silence, Zelda had just retrieved her ashtray when Sabrina burst in, her voice proceeding her into the kitchen. 

“Aunties, we have a **big** problem.” She declared, setting her bag on one of the stools. 

Rolling her eyes, Zelda returned to the kitchen table. “Mephistopheles save us from the melodramatics of a teenage witch,” she uttered, sitting back down and picking up her paper. 

The comment made Hilda chuckle and shake her head, but her attention was on their niece. “How was school, love?” 

Instead of talking about school, though, Sabrina started to go on about demonic possessions and Harvey being attacked by said demon. As awful as it was that her friends had to restrain the man and that Harvey was attacked, this in no way indicated demon involvement—the man could simply be sick. 

Lowering her paper, Zelda stated as much. “Sabrina, cases of actual demonic possession are extremely rare despite what the false god and his propaganda machine would have you believe.” She knocked some ash off her cigarette. “Your friends have seen too many horror movies and we’ve been spending a lot of time on your conjuring work recently, that’s why demons seem feasible.” 

It was a logical explanation, teens, mortal or not, put too much stock in the media and allowed themselves to be carried away with it. And she and Sabrina had been working to catch Sabrina up on her conjuring class. For the past few nights, they’d sat together at the kitchen table, going over the text book and Zelda teaching Sabrina some of the basics that would likely have already been covered in class when she started. 

Sabrina, though, seemed unimpressed with Zelda’s interpretation of the situation, one hand planted on her hip. Zelda merely lifted her paper back up, sure this was simply the teens overreacting. 

“Have they called a doctor yet?” Hilda asked, drawing Sabrina’s attention to her. “Because they have to rule out every other possibility first. Like epilepsy, or schizophrenia, Tourette’s.” 

Another valid point, and yet Sabrina did not want to see sense. “Aunties, my mortal friends are talking about demons. What if they start talking about witches next? The entire coven could be exposed.” 

A ridiculous jump, but it had Zelda lowering her paper once more. “Who’s talking about witches?” She raised a teasing brow, “give me their names and I’ll make sure they stop talking about anything.” A wicked smile played on her lips, “permanently.” Sabrina rolled her eyes at the statement and Zelda couldn’t help but take it a little further. “It’s just terrible when teenagers slip into comas, isn’t it, Hilda?” 

Not nearly as amused, Hilda just gave her a look and went back to her lemons. 

“Susie is my friend. I won’t leave her in a house with a dangerous, possibly possessed man.” 

Sighing, Zelda set her paper down entirely. “We are _not to involve ourselves in mortal affairs_.” Really, why was this such a difficult concept for her family to understand? But she knew Sabrina wouldn’t let this go, so she offered some advice. “But, tell your friend not to touch the inhabited person, _if they are inhabited_. That contact would make them vulnerable to attacks.” She nodded and returned to her paper. 

“Wha, what kind of attacks?” Sabrina demanded, losing some of the color in her cheeks. 

Zelda knew right away she’d said the wrong thing in her attempt to help, but she couldn’t leave it at that, or Sabrina would do something reckless to protect her friends from whatever threats she thought might come. “Psychological. Demons prey on your fears, your… shame.” She glanced at Hilda, the fear and shame Batibat had twisted and tortured her with concerning Hilda and the rest of her family still brutally fresh in her mind. “Etcetera.” She added, pressing her lips together, glad they hadn’t noticed her pause. 

The defiance left Sabrina’s voice, and fear replaced it. “Harvey, Roz and Susie had to tie Uncle Jesse up. They all touched him and they’ve **all** had visions or visitations since then.” 

Hilda looked up from her work, “get them to bathe in a bit of blessed water from the Sea of Galilee, that always does the trick.” 

Looking between the two of them, Sabrina groaned and grabbed her bag before going upstairs. 

Once Zelda was sure their niece was gone, she folded her paper and turned to Hilda who was already coming over and sitting at the table. “This may actually be a case of demonic possession,” Zelda admitted quietly, taking a draw from her cigarette. “How are we to keep Sabrina from getting involved? This isn’t just about meddling with mortals; the Dark Lord doesn’t take kindly to witches messing in demonic affairs when it doesn’t concern them either.” 

Rubbing her forehead, Hilda shrugged her shoulders. “I think it’s too late to keep her from being involved, Zelds. These are her friends, she’s not going to just sit by and let it happen.” 

She dropped her head back and looked at the ceiling, breathing deeply. “Well, at least she can’t do anything about the demon itself. No witch can excise a demon once it’s taken full possession, she’s safe in that regard.” 

Hilda nodded, “it’s not much, but it’s something.” She gave Zelda a thin smile, squeezed her arm and got back up to finish the lemons. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The phone had almost turned over to voicemail when Zelda reached it, she’d been finishing up with their last client of the day, and Satan knew where Ambrose and Hilda were. “Spellman Sisters Mortuary,” she tried not to gasp, “this is Zelda.” 

Faustus’ voice greeted her curtly, “Zelda. Do you want to know what your niece was asking about in conjuring today?” 

Rubbing the back of her neck, Zelda leaned against the wall next to her. “I take it it wasn’t related to the coursework and you’re not calling me to praise how well she’s doing.” She replied dryly, propping the phone on her shoulder so she could check her pockets. 

“Exorcisms.” He stated, “she was quite adamant about learning what could be done if the Devouring Worm was in possession of a mortal.” 

Zelda halted her search for a cigarette, “I assume you told her such things were illegal and impossible for a witch to conduct.” Whatever good that would do, her niece was nothing if not tenacious, evidenced by her refusal to let the matter go after talking with her and Hilda. But the Devouring Worm, that was new information. 

A low chuckle echoed over the phone, “of course, Zelda. But she got this look in her eye. One that reminded me of a certain red-haired witch when she took something as a challenge to be conquered.” 

“Oh Satan,” she muttered, knowing that look all too well and what it could lead to. 

“My thoughts exactly, though I have no clue how Sabrina could possibly do anything about this demon, I thought I should warn you.” He informed her. 

Just then the front bell rang, frowning, Zelda peered around the corner and caught a glimpse of Hilda answering it. Then a familiar figure entered, though Zelda couldn’t say why she recognized this person. 

Bringing the phone back to her mouth, Zelda uttered a vague thanks and goodbye, her focus on the woman who was now following Hilda into the parlor. Hanging up the phone, Zelda quickly made for the same room. 

Hilda turned at the sound of her heels, “ahh, Zelda, this is Ms. Mary Wardwell, one of Sabrina’s teachers.” Her sister remarked, pouring some tea for their guest. 

Her eyes widened, that was it. She was the woman who’d been nosing around upstairs the past weekend. Zelda had forgotten about the witch completely in the process of dealing with Ambrose’s illegal astral projecting, protecting Sabrina from being harrowed and Batibat’s… visit. 

“You’re the one who was snooping upstairs.” She remarked bluntly, eyeing the woman. 

She had the decency to at least fake her abashment. Eyes downcast, Wardwell responded in a breathier voice than Zelda remembered her having previously. “I admit, I was looking around and it wasn’t for the powder room. You see,” Wardwell sighed softly and took the tea Hilda offered. “This is rather awkward to confess, I wasn’t supposed to let you know of my presence… but with everything Sabrina has been getting into, I thought three witches were better than two.” 

Zelda crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow expectantly, “and what do you know of Sabrina’s recent activities?” She inquired suspiciously. 

“Well, I’ve been keeping an eye on her. We recently ran into one another in the mines, she’s identified the demon in poor Jesse Putnam as Apophis.” 

She already knew this thanks to Faustus’ call, so Zelda’s reaction was less dramatic than Hilda’s. “I understand why Sabrina was in the mines, why were you?” 

Spinning the cup on its saucer nervously, “as I said, I was keeping an eye on Sabrina. It was what Edward wanted.” Wardwell supplied. 

Lie. The thought popped into Zelda’s mind before she even fully processed what Wardwell claimed. Narrowing her eyes, Zelda pressed for more details, “what do you know of my brother?” 

“I… I was his acolyte.” She offered, wringing her hands, “his student, then his secretary.” 

She’s lying, this time she knew for sure though. Zelda visited her brother often during his tenure as high priest, she was familiar with every one of his acolytes and had been on a first name basis with his secretary. His secretary who’d been a lovely witch at the ripe age of 851 and was employed mostly out of the generosity of her brother’s heart because she was half blind and deaf. 

But Zelda saw no reason to let Wardwell know she’d been caught. Why not let her dig herself deeper into this grave while Zelda did some investigating of her own? “You were his secretary, while he was the high priest at the Church of Night?” Zelda repeated as if to clarify, but really she wanted to hear the details again, cement them in her mind so she might use them as weapons later. 

“Yes,” Wardwell replied a little breathlessly and licked her lips. “You see, I sought him out. I was excommunicated from my own coven, the Church of Shadows in New Hampshire.” 

The excommunication bit was a nice touch, Zelda thought scathingly, it got Hilda on her side faster… her sister squeaking in sympathy and clasping the woman’s hands. Zelda resisted the urge to snatch Hilda’s hands away and pull Hilda behind her. Instead she allowed Wardwell to keep spinning her tale; it would be easy enough to debunk. 

Zelda had countless connections in this and surrounding areas, one didn’t get to where she was within the church without cultivating a healthy and wide-reaching network. And it just so happened one of her old academy friends had married into the Church of Shadows decades ago. She would be able to tell Zelda instantly if this woman had ever been a part of their coven. 

Sloppy, Zelda judged. Wardwell hadn’t even taken the time to come up with an infallible backstory… well, if she wanted to simply hand Zelda more ammunition, Zelda wasn’t going to stop her, so she let the woman keep talking, lighting the cigarette she’d been craving since Faustus called. 

Wardwell went on spewing drivel about the cause of her excommunication—falling in love with a mortal and attempting to marry him. Which drove her to find Edward to begin with, eager to apprentice with the high priest with such modern beliefs. 

Ahh, and there was the part of the lie designed to entrap Sabrina. The star-crossed lovers, a witch and a mortal. Zelda almost wasn’t able to restrain an eye roll. 

Then came the part of the lie that Zelda refused to stomach, refused to stay quiet about. 

Wardwell shifted so she was looking at Zelda, but still holding Hilda’s hands. “And before he died, Edward charged me with keeping an eye on Sabrina.” 

“Why would Edward ask you to keep an eye on her? **We’re** her legal guardians.” She snapped, knocking the ash of her cigarette a little forcefully, losing her calm exterior for a moment. 

Dipping her head, Wardwell reached for her tea once more. “Your brother was cautious, overly-cautious, especially when it came to Sabrina, as I’m sure you know. I was to be an extra, invisible layer of protection.” 

And the lie evolved. Yes, Edward was protective, but cautious was not the word Zelda would use. He traded his daughter for a marriage license, after all. 

“Why would you agree?” Zelda demanded, “surely, you had better things to do than hover unnecessarily around my family for sixteen years.” 

“Zelda—” Hilda remarked, looking at her with wide eyes that were supposed to mean she was being rude. 

Wardwell pressed her lips together and picked at her dress. “I’d fallen in love with him.” She murmured, and there was even a slight glistening of tears in the woman’s eyes when she lifted her gaze. Zelda’s eyebrows shot up, oh, she was good. Excellent even. Someone should give her an award for this marvelous acting. 

But she knew better. Edward would _never_ instruct a stranger to watch over Sabrina without warning her first. He’d have known Zelda would take out any person who paid too much attention to her niece. There was no reason to ruin her advantage by stating this though. Zelda would allow this Mary Wardwell, or whoever she was, to believe she’d pulled one over on them… for now, at least until Zelda could do some digging of her own. 

They were all saved from having to pursue this latest confession by the front door opening and closing. Knowing it was Sabrina, Zelda moved from her spot by the door and settled on the couch next to Wardwell. Perhaps a little closer than strictly necessary, and perhaps she rested her free hand along the couch behind the woman; it was a not too subtle demonstration of dominance, this invasion of personal space. 

The proximity also allowed her to better examine the woman’s magical signature, it was different than when they’d first met. Wardwell’s power was still there, just muted. As if she hadn’t expected Zelda to catch her the first time and so she’d allowed her magic to filter into the air freely. Now, she was hiding it, though Zelda wasn’t sure why, it did nothing to assuage her suspicions. 

Her action didn’t go unnoticed and if anything Wardwell seemed amused by it, a small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. This reaction, in addition to the lies, told Zelda the woman next to her wasn’t who she claimed. The demure school teacher Wardwell was playing would be intimidated, would nervously shift away, trying to discreetly put space between herself and Zelda. It was a tiny slip, one no one else noticed, but it was enough to strengthen Zelda’s resolve to ruin this woman for her interference, for interjecting herself into their lives under false pretenses. 

To her credit, Sabrina wasn’t impressed with Wardwell either. In fact, she seemed annoyed by her teacher’s presence. Unfortunately, Zelda couldn’t let Sabrina know she felt the same, not yet. She needed Wardwell to believe they’d bought her lies hook, line and sinker. Which was how she found herself waving away the woman’s presence as though it were nothing. 

“I wish I could say we were surprised, but this is just like Edward, isn’t it, Hilda?” She stated, leaning around Wardwell to glance at her sister. Hilda furrowed her brows, clearly not thinking the same but she just hummed in response. Zelda quickly forged ahead before Hilda could give her away. “It’s insulting, of course, that he didn’t think we’d be up to the task of protecting you ourselves.” 

Not looking at any of them, Wardwell cut in. “Well, maybe you aren’t.” 

Zelda gripped the back of the couch tightly to prevent the curse itching in the tips of her fingers from flying at this woman and her audacity. “ _I beg your pardon?_ ” 

In a tone that was far too patronizing for Zelda’s liking, Wardwell elaborated. “Sabrina has been finding herself in increasingly difficult predicaments since fleeing her dark baptism.” 

“That is a good point,” Hilda added unhelpfully. 

The two stated these things as if Zelda weren’t fully aware of the danger Sabrina kept finding herself in lately. As if Zelda weren’t shouldering the burden of trying to keep her girl safe. “Quiet, Hilda.” She didn’t need Hilda siding against her at the moment. 

Impatient, Sabrina interrupted their side conversation. “Aunties, Ms. Wardwell. Jesse Putnam is going to **die** if we don’t do anything! And my friends will be next. And if I can’t get help from the Church of Night, I’ll get it from the Catholic church down the road.” 

Something cold spread through Zelda at her niece’s declaration. “Have you lost your mind!?” She demanded, “turning to the false church for help? Has your Aunt Hilda’s excommunication taught you nothing?” How could it not have taught her the Dark Lord is vengeful and does not take forays into the false god’s realm lightly? 

But Sabrina refused to see it that way, “I don’t see what choice I have. Father Blackwood said there is no exorcism rite for witches to perform.” 

She should have heeded Faustus’ call, asked more questions. Because now this woman was claiming there was a rite for a witch exorcism, one Edward had created, one she conveniently had the instructions to with her; it was too coincidental. When she went a step further to say they give these tools to Sabrina so she might perform the rite herself, Zelda about killed the woman. 

“I’m sorry. Are you actually suggesting that _my niece_ perform an exorcism?” The edges of her vision were tinting red. No, Sabrina had been in enough dangerous situations lately, performing an exorcism—on a powerful demon such as the Devouring Worm, no less, would not make that list. Regardless of how eager Sabrina was to see this through. 

Wardwell only egged Sabrina on. Pulling back from the woman, Zelda confronted her. “You claim your entire raison d’être is to protect Sabrina.” It was a statement, not a question and her tone left no room for question that Wardwell’s actions were going against this calling. 

Turning slightly to face her, Wardwell raised a brow in challenge. “Well, it is. And I shall be with her, of course. And at the first sign of danger, I’ll spirit her away.” 

It was too dangerous, besides the risk this posed to Sabrina an exorcism would draw the fury of the Dark Lord without question. Her heart jumped into her throat, standing restlessly and knocking the ash off her cigarette, Zelda protested. 

“No. I won’t allow it. I forbid it.” She crossed her arms tightly, hoping to hide the fact she was shaking. 

The look Sabrina gave her was downright superior and her tone even more so, “Aunt Zelda, I’m not asking you for permission. I’m doing it. And if Ms. Wardwell wants to chaperone me, fine.” 

All those hours, all those hours spent huddled next to each other pouring over textbooks and chatting, smiling and even laughing with one another as Zelda explained some foreign and extreme concept; all the progress they’d made in their relationship… apparently, it’d all been in Zelda’s head. 

And then, then Hilda sided with them. It was a sharp blow, her sister going along to the exorcism felt as though she agreed with Wardwell in that they’d been doing a lackluster job in protecting Sabrina. Even when Zelda reminded Hilda that the church expressly forbids exorcisms her sister had been flippant, saying she had nothing to lose. 

She wanted to scream that they had so much to lose. Their lives being the foremost price the Dark Lord would name for performing this rite—he’d stolen Edward's for less. Forcing those words down though, Zelda tried logic, stating none of them were ordained and therefore unable to even complete the rite. 

Wardwell’s words barely registered, Edward’s rite didn’t rely on higher powers, just the power of the individual witch performing the exorcism… the room was starting to spin, her blood pressure surely far too high. 

“What are we waiting for?” Sabrina asked, and Hilda and Wardwell eagerly got up off the couch. 

Taking a small step forward, Zelda looked at her girl. “Sabrina, you can’t possibly trust this stranger, can you?” Her voice softened at the end, the unspoken, ‘over me’ hanging in the air. 

Sabrina stated she didn’t have any other choice and left, the others filing out after her. Another figurative blow, this one more acute than before. How? How had they gotten to this point? The point where Sabrina cared nothing for Zelda’s input and trusted strangers over her? 

Unsure what else to do and worry swirling violently inside her, Zelda stalked back and forth in the foyer, spinning her rings and glancing at the door with every pass as if hoping her family hadn’t abandoned her for some reckless mission with a witch they didn’t know and certainly couldn’t trust. 

Poor Ambrose was the only one left in the house with her, and therefore stuck listening to her vent her concerns. She barely listened to his interpretation of Lady Blackwood’s test results, glancing at the card he handed her only long enough to register that Constance was pregnant with twins. 

“For the love of Satan, what have I done to deserve these women in my life?” She muttered, still pacing. 

Ambrose smiled wryly, “you’re lucky, I suppose.” Huffing, unamused at Ambrose’s subtle reference to himself, Zelda continued. 

“I refuse to put the safety of _my niece_ in the hands of a spinster schoolmarm and a British batwit.” She spat, uncertain what she was the angriest about—this Wardwell swooping in out of nowhere and providing the means to an illegal and highly dangerous ritual, at Hilda for encouraging the entire thing, or at Sabrina for not trusting her. 

Or, or possibly she was the angriest with herself. For not being able to talk sense into her family, for not having strong enough relationships with them that they believed her when she said this was a horrendous idea. 

Sighing, “they’ll get her killed,” she murmured fearfully, almost to herself. 

Ambrose’s hand on her shoulder stopped her, “not if you help her, they won’t.” He looked at her with soft, understanding eyes, as if he was aware of the internal battle she’d been fighting for so long. 

Zelda knew he was right. Knew what she needed to do, but if they were caught, if the church found out…. She wouldn’t have her connections to protect them anymore. None of that would matter, though, if something happened to Sabrina. And hadn’t she just sworn to not fail her niece again, and here was another demon threatening Sabrina? Squeezing Ambrose’s hand in thanks, Zelda headed for the door. 

She wouldn’t fail as a protector again. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The wind whipped her hair and thunder crashed above her as Zelda raced into the house and up the stairs—following the panicked noises coming from the far bedroom. She’d been right, they were going to get Sabrina killed. 

Sabrina’s voice sounded over the storm as Zelda reached the door, “something’s wrong. I’m not strong enough!” 

Bursting into the room, Zelda didn’t even pause to take in the scene, “yes, you are!” She cried out, Sabrina started this, she had to be the one to finish… that didn’t mean Zelda couldn’t help though. Her resolve to only help almost broke immediately when she finally set eyes on the Devouring Worm. Her vision nearly eclipsed with red, the demon was hovering menacingly over Sabrina while Hilda and Wardwell cowered. “I call upon Cybil Leek,” Zelda declared, holding up a hand to keep the demon at bay. She could have, and dearly wanted to, throw the bastard through the wall, twist its’ neck and rupture its’ heart for going after Sabrina. But she restrained herself, all she’d accomplish would be the destruction of the vessel the demon possessed. 

So, instead of obliterating the beast herself, Zelda settled for calling upon her ancestors. Mentally asking them for their strength and to help her protect her niece while she urged Sabrina to continue. 

When they expelled Apophis, Sabrina moved to examine it where it lay, weakened, on the ground. Zelda caught her arm and held her back, “Sabrina, don’t.” She cautioned, knowing the demon would latch onto the closest warm body to try and survive. 

Sabrina, to Zelda’s astonishment, listened. She turned her attention to her aunt and for the first time in ages, Zelda saw admiration and awe in her expression. The look stunned her. It had been a long time since she’d been viewed as anything other than another one of the villains in her niece’s life—Zelda found she’d forgotten what it felt like to not be seen as the bad guy; it was a wonderful sensation. 

A pathetic croak emanated from the corner, drawing their attention back to the demon. 

“Now what?” Sabrina looked to them, flushed with excitement but lost on what to do next. 

Zelda started to approach the thing, wanting to crush it to dust when Wardwell bustled forward, snatched a blanket off the bed, bundled the thing in her arms and rushed outside. Sabrina and Hilda were quick to follow, but Zelda trailed after them a little more slowly, skeptical. 

Why not just dispose of the thing? Yes, it was a higher demon but in its current state it could certainly be killed. All the realms would be better off without this particular demon. So, why was Wardwell content with tossing it down a well and trapping it with the stone seal? Why would she allow it to crawl back to the underworld and give it time to recover and attack again when it was inevitably freed by something later on? 

She was so caught up trying to decipher Wardwell’s intentions she almost missed Sabrina’s comment. 

“Thanks to all of us. Including you, Aunt Zee.” Sabrina added, lifting her attention from the well. “What made you change your mind?” 

Gazing at Sabrina, Zelda thought of how close she’d come to dying tonight. The close call had her wanting to be truthful. To tell Sabrina she’d been scared for her, that she’d needed to make sure Sabrina was safe because she loved her and was doing _everything_ in her power to keep her safe despite what Wardwell claimed earlier. 

But the words didn’t come, those kinds of words never came easily for her. Which was why she’d yet to try and make outright amends with Hilda after their encounter with Batibat—settling for small gestures like resume revisions…. It was also why she found herself making some dismissive remark about witnessing history and educational purposes. Hilda raised a brow and smiled softly at her, clearly seeing through the excuse, but she said nothing for which Zelda was grateful as Sabrina and Wardwell accepted the response without question. 

“Don’t get too big for your britches, Sabrina. You’re grounded.” She informed her. 

Sabrina looked genuinely surprised, “grounded?” 

Honestly, just because they’d saved a man didn’t negate all the illegal things Sabrina had done to save said man. “A mortal punishment for interfering with mortal affairs.” She cocked a brow in challenge, waiting to see if Sabrina would fight her on it. But Sabrina merely closed her eyes and sighed, accepting the punishment. 

Then Hilda suggested tea, well, tea wasn’t exactly what Zelda was craving but home sounding magnificent. Only Sabrina invited Ms. Wardwell to join them and that idea was _far_ from magnificent. Thankfully Wardwell declined, Zelda quickly agreed the teacher should be off; she didn’t trust her for a moment and did not want the witch in her house again. 

Wardwell’s story didn’t have holes, it was one big hole, not a shred of truth within it. And even if Zelda doubted her origins to begin with, Wardwell’s willingness to put Sabrina in danger directly contradicted her claim that she was there to protect. No, if she’d been commissioned by Edward, she never would have provided Sabrina the means to perform an illegal and extremely perilous rite. 

Zelda kept watch out of the corner of her eye as Sabrina said her goodbye before joining them. Though tempted to turn around and ream the woman for not ‘pulling Sabrina out at the first sign of danger’ as promised, Zelda kept moving. She’d have to keep an eye on this Mary Wardwell, discreetly of course. She knew if she forbade or discouraged Sabrina from seeing her teacher in any way it would only backfire on her. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

They’d only just entered the house when Ambrose’s voice rang out, “Aunties! We have company.” His tone was warning enough, and Zelda rushed forward to enter the room first. Faustus was seated in one of the chairs, eyes blazing and gripping his cane so tightly his knuckles were white. 

“Father Blackwood,” Zelda greeted evenly, “to what do we owe the honor of this visit?” She knew she was laying it on thick, but they’d just returned from an exorcism so a little overcompensation couldn’t hurt. 

From his expression, though, he already knew. “It has come to my attention, Sister Zelda, that you, Sabrina and your excommunicated sister have just performed an unauthorized exorcism.” Faustus couldn’t even look at her. 

Clutching her coat, Zelda shrugged minutely. “Word travels fast amongst the damned, it seems.” She observed coolly, her exterior not betraying her inner turmoil. _This_ , this was why she’d wanted to kill the demon and not just banish it back to Hell. It’d apparently arrived and started spreading the word of witches performing exorcisms immediately. 

Ambrose looked at Zelda earnestly, “for the record, I did not inform him. His excellency had an inkling and… humbled us with a visit.” She smiled softly at him and nodded, letting him know she was aware he wouldn’t sell them out in such a way. 

This inkling must have been all of Sabrina’s questions in class and seeing as how her niece told the high priest what demon they were dealing with Faustus knew the timeline to perform the rite was short. Zelda _really_ should have heeded his call. 

Faustus pushed out of his chair, furious and rightfully so. Zelda herself still should have felt the same. But it had all been replaced with Sabrina’s admiration, her approval. And Zelda knew that wasn’t how good parenting was done. A parent shouldn’t crave those things from their child, shouldn’t allow their actions and emotions to be ruled by a child’s approval. But she and Sabrina had been on opposing sides for so long now… it was nice to be on the same side for once. 

When he threatened the entire family with excommunication, she was half-tempted to let him. Excommunication seemed like it would be rather freeing at this point; no more pretending, no more stress as to whether the coven or the Dark Lord would find out. It wasn’t in the cards, though, despite the dangers of her subterfuge it was safer to be shielded by the church than shunned by it. She hadn’t been lying when she’d said witches without covens were easy pickings. 

So, when Faustus demanded a reason not to send them packing, Zelda smiled and played her trump card. “I can give you two.” It wasn’t exactly how she’d planned on telling Faustus he and Constance were expecting twins, but it was certainly the most advantageous time to do it. 

As Zelda glanced around, indicating to her family as she spoke, Hilda, Ambrose and Sabrina were all watching her with pride and awe as she leveraged the high priest into leaving them be. Faustus frowned, hating that he’d been outmaneuvered but acquiesced with a nod. 

“I’ll see you out, then.” Zelda murmured, heading to the front door and leaving Faustus no choice but to follow. 

He caught the door as she was opening it, though, and pushed it shut again. “Zelda, what the fuck were you thinking?” Faustus hissed, peering over her shoulder briefly to ensure they weren’t overheard. “Of all the moronic and dangerous things…” He pressed his lips together and breathed forcefully out of his nose, trying to calm himself. “Why provoke the Dark Lord? Hilda was excommunicated for a baptism _from sixteen years ago_. Now an exorcism?! How do you think Satan will react? Your entire family could be in peril. And not just yours, but mine.” 

Zelda blinked, unsure how his family came into play. “Faustus, what—” 

Gripping her arm, Faustus explained, his eyes a little wild. “I’m your high priest and you managed to find a work around so you could conduct an illegal exorcism rite on a mortal without my knowledge. Yes, I had an inkling, but I never expected it to all happen so quickly that I couldn’t stop it. The Dark Lord doesn’t have kind views of high priests who cannot control their flock. He was irritated when I didn’t secure Sabrina’s signature in the book, he was incensed when I lost the trial… how do you think he’ll feel now?” He demanded, releasing her arm and spearing his hand through his hair. 

“I _never_ wanted this, Faustus.” She whispered fervently, needing to explain why she’d risked the safety of so many people. “I was content to let the possession run its course. But it was a relative of one of Sabrina’s mortal friends, her friends were at risk of being possessed next once the beast was done with its host. Sabrina spoke of going to the Catholic church for assistance.” Faustus took a step back at that, finally he seemed to comprehend the difficulties Zelda dealt with on a daily basis. “Then this Mary Wardwell, who I’ve never heard of and don’t trust further than I could throw her, comes out of nowhere with the _exact_ instructions for a witching exorcism. 

“Sabrina was going to complete the ritual without me, Faustus—she actually tried. If I hadn’t shown up…” Zelda shuddered, the image of Apophis looming over her girl flashing through her mind and fear trickled through her at how close they’d come to serious injury and death. “I wasn’t going to let anything happen to Sabrina. I know the position I’ve put myself in, and you. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing to be done for it now.” 

His demeanor changed when she mentioned Wardwell, did he know her already? Had she come to him as a high priest, asking to be allowed into their coven? From Faustus’ tired and annoyed expression, he didn’t like the woman either. Before Zelda could probe the issue, he sighed and put his hand on the door knob. 

“I’ve done what damage control I can. I don’t think there should be too much backlash, but I make no promises.” He cracked the door open. 

Catching his arm, Zelda bit her lip before murmuring, “thank you, Faustus. I—” 

Shaking his head, Faustus brought his eyes back to hers. “Don’t thank me, Zelda. Whatever mess comes from this, I will shield my children first.” 

She raised a brow, “of course. And I will shield mine.” He nodded curtly at her and left, closing the door behind him with a snap. Exhaling slowly, Zelda made for the kitchen where she knew her family would be, likely being plied with Hilda’s tea. 

Sabrina looked to her immediately when she entered the room, a broad smile on her face. “Auntie Zelda,” she began, the same admiring look still on her face. “That was—” 

“Ah,” she headed her niece off, “it’s late and an exorcism takes a lot out of a witch. Off to bed.” And Sabrina listened for the second time that night without argument, and Zelda felt as though maybe they’d finally turned a corner and reached a place where they could as least communicate. 

As Sabrina scampered up the stairs, Ambrose pushed a glass of whiskey across the table towards her, whistling lowly. “I’m impressed, Auntie Zee,” he grinned, taking a sip from his own drink. “That was well played, you didn’t even hesitate. Didn’t even pause to think. You just outwitted the high priest as though it were nothing.” 

Taking a seat, Zelda silently toasted Ambrose and took a long draw, relishing the warmth the alcohol sent racing through her. “Well, when it comes to the safety of this family…” she offered, propping her feet up on the empty chair opposite her. Hilda smiled and said nothing, but she did reach over and squeeze Zelda’s hand. 

Though she knew what they’d done was right and it was exhilarating to have performed the first witch exorcism, Zelda knew they’d only managed to dig themselves deeper into a hole… regardless of how this all panned out. Finishing her drink and baying Hilda and Ambrose goodnight, Zelda headed upstairs, making a detour in Sabrina’s room first. 

Her niece beamed at her when she came in, “auntie, I—” 

“Will **never** put yourself in that kind of position again.” She cut in, Sabrina’s brow furrowed, taken aback. “You _will not_ be so reckless with your safety and the safety of others. You _will not_ experiment with untested spells and magic, especially not under the circumstances you put yourself in tonight. You _will not_ …” Her voice trailed off, unable to say that Sabrina would not trust strangers over her again. “You _will not_ scare me like that again.” Zelda managed to finish, “do you understand?” 

Eyes glistening, Sabrina nodded, twisting the blanket resting in her lap. “Yes, auntie, I—” 

Pressing her lips together, Zelda nodded and turned back to the door. “Good. Now, get some rest, it’s been a trying night.” 

A soft sigh escaped from Sabrina, so quiet Zelda almost missed it. “Of course, Auntie Zee, good night.” 

“Night sweet girl,” she whispered in return, switching off Sabrina’s light and heading for her own bed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Faustus left the Spellman house and teleported straight to his office at the academy, knowing it was the most likely place to find Lilith. She had some explaining she needed to do—he’d never expected her to interfere with the Spellmans so directly, to the point of drawing Zelda’s suspicion. Though her presence at the exorcism clarified some things, there were still far too many blanks that needed filling. 

He’d barely been in his office for five minutes and he sensed her presence, he’d gotten much better at that, even if she hadn’t shown herself yet. But he was impatient tonight and in no mood for her games. 

“Care to explain why the Spellmans conducted an exorcism?” Faustus asked icily, pouring himself a double of scotch and knocking half of it back. 

Lilith’s shadow danced on his wall for a moment before the demoness herself materialized. Rolling her eyes, she slinked through his office and helped herself to a drink as well. “Don’t get your unholy undies in a twist, Blackwood.” She purred, taking a sip. “This is just another step in Sabrina’s journey to sign the book. The Dark Lord knew beforehand what would happen, there won’t be any consequences.” She huffed in amusement, as if his concern over consequences was childish. 

Baffled, Faustus braced himself on his desk, “Sabrina almost _died_.” He gritted out, “Zelda had to step in. Surely, the girl’s death would throw a wrench into your and the Dark Lord’s plans.” 

Scoffing, Lilith perched herself on the arm of one of the chairs in front of his desk. “As if I’d let her die.” She retorted scathingly, he just raised a brow and waited, eventually she continued. “Zelda’s interference was unexpected, though not unwelcome. Sabrina was right, she’s **not** strong enough, not yet. I overestimated her. The idea was to have Sabrina conduct the exorcism almost completely on her own, it would have pushed her further down the path. Zelda’s presence dampened that progress a little, but it still got the job done…” Suddenly, Lilith’s face lit up, a cruel smile spreading across her lips. “And what concern is it of yours if the girl did die? You could care less for our plans…. No, it’s not the Dark Lord’s grand scheme you worry about. You worry how Zelda would be affected if something happened to Sabrina.” Standing, Lilith rounded the desk and stopped next to him. “My, my Faustus, if I didn’t know better, I’d say your infatuation with a certain Spellman matriarch had grown into something… more.” 

“Good thing you know better,” he remarked stiffly, trying to edge away from her discreetly, his response only made Lilith laugh. 

“I can see why you like her, though.” Closing her eyes, Lilith leaned against his desk and as if reliving the night’s events in her head. “All that power,” she rolled her shoulders sensually. “Zelda could have performed the rite solo. The ritual really is all about the power of the witch… and oh, Zelda’s power.” Lilith bit her lip, eyes still closed. “And it’s all contained in such a stunning package too,” she reopened her eyes and they were a shade darker. “Zelda is a rather enticing witch, maybe if I want to get closer to Sabrina… I should get _closer_ to her aunt.” She lifted a brow. 

Scowling, and not dignifying her comments with a response—as it would only egg her on, Faustus returned to the topic he’d come here to discuss. “So, **no** consequences for the events that transpired tonight. For anyone?” 

Lilith dropped her head forward in exaggerated boredom, pouting that he hadn’t taken the bait about Zelda. “No, as I said, the Dark Lord was aware of what I was planning.” 

The remaining tension drained out of him. “Why not just inform me?” 

“Because I needed your little performance at the Spellman’s to be genuine.” She smiled coyly and took his chin in her hand, “and you played your part of upset and righteous high priest marvelously.” Lilith praised, using a tone one would on a small child. She chuckled when he jerked away from her touch and she finished her drink. 

Unable to believe it would be that simple, Faustus narrowed his eyes at the demoness. “So, so no one is in danger.” He pressed, needing to hear those exact words. 

Sighing impatiently, Lilith set her glass down and pushed off the desk. “No one is in danger. Satan, you’re a broken record.” She muttered, and then grinned. “Well, no one except Uncle Jesse. But that’s no concern of yours,” she teased and was gone before he could interpret the statement. 

Faustus groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose as he slumped into his chair. How he wanted to dispose of that woman. He knew he couldn’t, the Dark Lord wouldn’t approve, but that didn’t stop him from imagining her demise by his hand half a dozen ways. 

At least, he topped off his drink, at least Zelda would be safe. Zelda and his children. Children plural, children two, he grinned, twins… what good fortune. Overwhelming, certainly, he hardly felt prepared for one baby, let alone two, but it was an unholy blessing. 

He leaned back in his chair and sipped on his drink, getting lost in the daydreams of what his future children would look like. Inadvertently picturing them with his blue eyes and soft red-gold hair, or his darker complexion with piercing green eyes. With these images in his head, Faustus drifted off. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

She’d slept fitfully. One would think after the adrenaline rush of an exorcism Zelda would have at least slept deeply. But her dreams had been haunted by Batibat’s images now compounded with Apophis going after Sabrina. 

The nightmares were still swirling around her head by the time she made it downstairs, so she’d remained quiet at breakfast. Allowing Hilda to try and comfort Ambrose while she hid behind her paper. Zelda wanted to ease Ambrose’s melancholy, to tell him she’d talk to Faustus about his sentence… but considering she’d essentially blackmailed the man last night to keep them from being excommunicated, she didn’t think her words would do any good. 

That was when she overheard Hilda exclaim Mr. Putnam’s name on the phone followed by condolences. She nearly dropped her paper as she listened to Hilda inform Sabrina that Jesse died over night, his heart giving out. 

Standing abruptly, and ignoring Ambrose’s inquiring look, Zelda made her way upstairs and fumbled the lock on the bedroom door, her breathing harsh and uneven. 

It’d been for nothing. They’d jeopardized everything and the man died anyway. Swearing, Zelda swept her belongings off her dresser and paced away, clenching and unclenching her hands. She’d exposed them to the wrath of the Dark Lord. She’d allowed Sabrina and Hilda to participate in something she knew the church expressly forbade and then joined herself out of necessity. 

Perhaps if she’d just gone to start with, snatched the instructions from Wardwell and teleported to the Putnam residence, then she could have completed the rite by herself. The Devouring Worm would be dead then, not dumped into some hole and allowed to go back to Hell and spread tales. It might not have made a difference for Jesse Putnam, but it would have made a difference for her family and their safety. 

But she hadn’t done that, instead she’d forbade Sabrina from going, been resolute in sitting on the sidelines herself… only to cave. She dropped onto her bed, head buried in her hands. Zelda couldn’t help but see a pattern emerge, her saying no and giving in even though she knew the idea was dangerous or bad. 

Unable to say no, to refuse. The public schooling, advertising for a familiar, rejecting her dark baptism, eliminating harrowing, the exorcism. And these were just the big ones, there were countless instances of less importance that could join these; the exorcism only the latest on an ever-growing list. 

Like father, like daughter—both had Zelda wrapped around their fingers, whether they’d realized it or not. Saying no and then getting involved anyway by trying to swoop in and clean up the messes left in the wake of her more virtuous family members.... It would be the death of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much for getting this done before part 2... oh well, hopefully you'll still enjoy reading it :)
> 
> Also, I feel like Zelda should have been _way_ more suspicious of Wardwell/Lilith. There's no way Zelda wasn't completely in the know about what was going on in the church while Edward was in charge.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's REAL long, just warning you, sorry!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve had a few people ask if I’m going to continue this fic into the next season…. Well, after binging it this past weekend, I want to say no… because I like the ending I already have planned.
> 
> But I also want to say yes because my brain automatically started outlining how I could make it work without any major inconsistencies in plot or characters… So, it’ll probably be a yes, but not saying anything definitively yet… sorry!
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter though.

Only a few days after the exorcism, Zelda reached out to her old academy friend in the Church of Shadows. She would have done it sooner but finding Sabrina’s old yearbook so she could show Abigail a picture of Mary Wardwell took longer than she anticipated… the damned thing was stuffed in her niece’s closest with her other school memorabilia. 

The differences between the woman depicted in the book and the one who’d recently inserted herself into their lives were striking. Aside from the changes in physical appearance, there was even a notable difference in the way Wardwell held herself; a confidence, a power present now that hadn’t been before. 

Further vindicated in her suspicions, Zelda tapped a pattern into her vanity mirror and waited. Abigail answered promptly, a broad smile on her face. 

“Zee! It’s been ages, you look marvelous.” Her friend enthused, settling in front of her own mirror. 

Coming from almost anyone else Zelda would have taken the words as empty flattery, but Abigail had always been her most genuine friend and the comment brought a smile to her face. “And you look dreadful,” she teased, “is, is that part of a frog leg in your hair?” 

Swearing, Abigail tugged the offending item out. “The boys have recently discovered they can get into my potion ingredient cabinet and I’ve been trying to right the chaos they wrought for the past two days now. Apparently, this was stuck to the cabinet ceiling.” She eyed the thing with disgust and put it down with a somewhat amused shake of her head. “What can I help you with? Your witching board message sounded urgent.” 

“I need a favor,” Zelda started, holding up the picture of Wardwell. “This woman, Mary Wardwell, suddenly came into our lives and I don’t trust her for a moment. She claims to have been excommunicated from the Church of Shadows, this would have happened approximately seventeen years ago, if not a few more. Can you look into it for me? See if you can find any record of her at the church?” 

Abigail peered at the photo, “course I can, Zee. Can I get I copy—” 

Zelda murmured a quick spell and a duplicate of the photo appeared in her hand, she pressed it against the mirror and another quick spell, and the thing was absorbed into the mirror and deposited in front of her friend. 

Arching a brow, “thank you,” she said, plucking the photo off her mirror and examining it more closely. “Care to tell me why I’m looking into this witch and you’re not handling this the old way?” 

An amused huff escaped Zelda, “the old way? You mean when I scared the Beelzebub out of someone to get what I wanted?” 

“Exactly,” Abigail’s eyes shone with excitement, “where’s the Zelda Spellman that confronted any and everyone without hesitation?” 

“Back in the past where she belongs,” she drawled in return, a nostalgic smile on her lips. “Besides, this particular fact-finding mission requires a more subtle touch… as least on my end. Do all of the confronting you please on yours.” 

Laughing, Abigail shook her head. “What was the name again? Mary Warden?” She asked, eyes twinkling with mischief. 

Rolling her eyes at Abigail’s games, Zelda retorted, “Wardwell. From—” 

Waving a hand, Abigail laughed a little more, “approximately seventeen years ago, yeah, yeah.” She smiled and tucked the photo away. “I’ve got you, Zee. Might take a little bit to go through the church records, but I think I should get back to you in about a week.” 

Zelda smiled, “thank you, Abs, really. Now how are the little—” Before she could finish the question a loud scream sounded in the background, followed by a drawn out call of ‘mom’. “Duty calls?” She asked, remembering when Sabrina and Ambrose would go at it. 

“Love of Lucifer,” Abigail muttered, already standing and picking up the frog leg from before. “Be thankful yours are old enough to know better.” She sighed. 

Smirking, Zelda lifted a brow, “oh, Abs, we have much to catch up on if you think mine know better,” Chuckling, the two bade one another goodbye and Zelda wiped her mirror clean. 

It was progress. Progress to finding out who Mary Wardwell truly was and what her intentions were. Zelda had so far only confirmed what she already knew, that Wardwell had no affiliation with Edward during his time at the Church of Night—no records existed of her being a student, acolyte or employee. 

All she could do now was wait and see what Abigail dug up. Well, wait and figure out how to broach the topic with Faustus… he was hiding something about the woman and Zelda intended to find out. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

A week passed and nothing. Zelda resisted contacting Abigail, either by witching board, mirror or phone—she knew her friend was busy, she just wished she’d get back to her sooner. She was about to bother her, fingers hovering over the glass of her mirror when Sabrina shouted out. Something about a massacre. 

Exhaling slowly, Zelda descended the stairs dreading what she knew would greet her. Wrinkling her nose, Zelda eyed the intestines with distaste; so much for a peaceful holiday of watching overgrown mortal men pummel one another over a leather ball. She even had money on a few of the games… pity she wouldn’t be able to watch. 

Sabrina looked at all of her family members in shock, their response to the entrails clearly not meeting her expectations. 

“It’s a message from the Council, Sabrina. It means our family’s been selected to participate in this year’s Feast of Feasts.” She informed her, already heading to the kitchen to get the whiskey. 

Her niece hurried after her, “the what?! And what do lamb organs have to do—” 

Closing her eyes, Zelda decided she’d need the whole bottle. Carrying it over to the table with a glass, Zelda called out for everyone to join her. It would be best if Sabrina heard the origins of this grisly holiday from all of them. 

Once they were seated, Zelda began to explain. “Feast of Feasts, Sabrina, is one of our coven’s unholiest holidays. It’s similar to mortal Thanksgiving, but—” 

Ambrose huffed at her attempt to compare the traditions, “the menu is slightly different.” He interrupted, clasping Sabrina on the shoulders before sprawling on the bench at the table. 

They took turns telling the tale of Freya. She’d hoped to let Sabrina remain in the dark about this particular witching tradition for a while yet. It was gruesome and Zelda hated it herself, tried not to think of it at all and for the past seven years or so she’d succeeded. She and Hilda hadn’t been selected to participate for some time, for which Zelda was immensely grateful. 

It seemed their luck had run out. 

Sabrina was rightfully confused and disgusted when she realized they were talking about cannibalism. But Zelda couldn’t let her know she felt the same, it would only encourage her niece to run further from the church. 

“The Feast of Feasts is an annual demonstration of our,” she swallowed hard, “devotion to the Dark Lord. Fourteen families from the coven are selected to participate in a, uh, a lottery. The families then choose someone to represent them.” She glanced at Hilda and her sister’s eyes were shining. Pushing past her desire to cry as well, Zelda forged on. “A tribute, as it were.” 

Ambrose cut in, “only ladies are eligible, because—” 

“It is the Dark Lord’s will.” Zelda finished in as chipper a tone she could manage, though she could feel tears stinging at her eyes as well. “In any case,” she inhaled deeply and then went on to explain how the tribute drew a lot to see if she would be queen. 

There was some slight push back on Sabrina’s part, not that that surprised Zelda—she’d have been stunned if there wasn’t. But that didn’t change anything. Didn’t change what she needed to do. 

“Since Hilda’s been excommunicated, only Sabrina and I are eligible for the lottery, which means that **I** will represent the family in tomorrow night’s drawing.” She stood as if her statement that she might be selected as the main dish at a cannibalistic ritual was a conversation ender. 

Sabrina’s hand on her arm and her protest gave Zelda pause and had her sitting back down. She could count the number of times in recent years that Sabrina had instigated physical contact with her. And her niece’s genuine concern, how she equated the loss of Zelda with the loss of her parents—if she hadn’t been tearing up before, Zelda certainly was now. 

“That’s sweet, Sabrina… but your Aunt Hilda and I have participated in many lotteries over the years, and the Dark Lord has never seen fit to, reward” she forced the word out, hating that she had to act as though this tradition were a privilege. “Reward us with being queen. I have no reason to believe this year will be any different.” She managed, proud of how steady her voice was. “So please, the Feast of Feasts is happening, and _like it or not_ , we are participating.” Knocking back the rest of her drink, Zelda stood to leave once more, making sure to grab her decanter of whiskey on the way to her room—she’d need it to get through this damned holiday. 

Oh, she hated this tradition, down to her very bones she hated it. Even before her faith had broken all those years ago, this was one part of the Church of Night she’d never quite agreed with—witches killing witches. It horrified her, always had and for once she and Sabrina were completely of the same mind. 

It was murder and cannibalism, not an honor. But she’d be damned if she even let Sabrina near the lottery. No, she’d keep her niece as _far_ away from it as possible. So, it wasn’t even a question, it would be her name in the lottery tomorrow and no one else’s. 

And if by some unholy chance she was selected… well, at least her last act would be to protect her girl. 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The next morning Zelda had the beginnings of a headache, which was a testament not only to the amount of alcohol she’d consumed, but also the amount of stress she was under. Frowning, Zelda went to the bathroom and was splashing water on her face when her mirror pinged. 

Hurrying to answer, Zelda hadn’t even fully sat down before Abigail’s face appeared in the mirror. 

“Hey, sorry for the early morning wake-up, but Satan, do I have some information for you. Or, well, lack of information, really.” Her friend jumped right in, only half paying attention to the mirror and eating a scone. “There is no one, and I mean **no one** with a name even remotely resembling Mary Wardwell ever attending the Church of Shadows, let alone getting excommunicated from it. I went back fifty years and even doubled checked the picture you sent against the records in case she changed her name.” Abigail swallowed her bite and cocked her head at Zelda. “I don’t know who that witch is, but she’s not from here, Zee.” 

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Zelda sighed. “Lovely.” It was the answer she’d expected, but she’d half hoped Wardwell was telling at least part of the truth—it would have given her some information to work with. 

Abigail frowned, “Zee, what is going on? Who is this woman?” 

Hand moving to massage the back of her neck, Zelda shook her head. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.” She paused, knowing she should ask after the kids but not having the mental energy to spare she merely said goodbye. “Have a good holiday, Abs, thank you so much for your help.” 

Sputtering, Abigail held up her hands. “Whoa there, Zelda…. What happened? You were all fire and vengeance the other day, what—” 

“We were selected for the Feast.” 

Sympathy softened Abigail’s posture and expression. “Oh, Zee…” 

Pressing her lips together, Zelda fiddled with the brush sitting in front of her. “Sabrina has to come this year,” she added quietly. 

Tilting her head, Abigail nodded, “well, she is of age now… though that never makes the first Feast easy. Does she know what to expect?” 

“We’ve explained the concept, but that never really prepares you for, for the event itself.” Zelda was still playing with the brush, eyes down. 

Abigail tapped on the glass to get her attention, “do you want me to come down and visit? I can be there in 30 minutes, just a quick teleport. We weren’t selected this year and none of my kids are old enough anyway.” 

Though sorely tempted, Zelda refused. “Abs, that’s not, you have plenty going on there with the kids, and Rebecca and the coven. You don’t—” 

“I know.” She interrupted gently, “but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t make the time, Zee.” 

Sniffing, Zelda nodded in thanks. “I appreciate it. And no matter how much I’d like to say yes, I need to focus on Sabrina and getting her through this.” 

A soft sigh emanated from her friend. “Zee, you’ve been focusing on that girl for sixteen years now. I know she’s your kid, but make sure you’re focusing on and taking care of yourself too, okay?” 

“You mean besides drawing to see if I get to be eaten tomorrow?” She tried to joke and redirect the conversation. 

Giving her an unimpressed look, Abigail continued as though she hadn’t interrupted. “I know how you get, putting everything on yourself. Ah!” She held up a hand when Zelda made to cut in. “Zelda, I’ve known you since the academy. You push yourself to perfection no matter how much it burns you out in the process. Just, just take care of yourself, if not for you, for me?” Abigail gave her a puppy-dog face, making Zelda chuckle. “I know we haven’t gotten together in years, it’s easy as a witch to let seven years slip by without a thought. But I still love you, Zelda Spellman, so you better take care of yourself.” 

Zelda cleared her throat, reciprocated the sentiment and promised to call after the Feast. As she cleared the mirror, Zelda’s heart ached, she’d managed to push down the hurt from missing her academy friends for years now—telling herself she had too many other things to do. Perhaps, perhaps if things settled down in the next few weeks, she’d be able to get together with them—even if it was only an astral projecting date like when they were all traveling after graduation. 

Feeling bolstered from her talk with Abigail, Zelda started to get ready for the day. 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

Only, only she’d gotten ready too fast. Zelda had nothing else to do but wait and it was killing her; even football couldn’t distract her from her churning stomach. Hilda attempted to help, Zelda could tell she felt guilty about not attending; though there was some relief in there too. Not that Zelda could blame her sister, she’d be relieved if she never had to participate in another Feast of Feasts again as well. 

Eventually, Zelda couldn’t stand being in the house any longer and left far earlier than necessary. To use more time, she walked through the woods to the church, hoping the cool air and crisp breeze would calm her like it did on her hikes. There was no such luck though, the cloud hanging over her head today was much harder to shake than the one she’d been running from the last time she’d hiked. 

Too soon the church appeared through the trees—she was still almost twenty minutes early. Sighing, Zelda pushed through the double doors and into the cool interior of the church, inhaling the earthy scents deeply as she did. There was no one else there yet, though everything was set up, leaving her nothing to do but pace and worry. 

Faustus entering the room interrupted her thoughts, though he’d yet to notice her, his head bent over the open unholy Bible in his hands. Zelda cleared her throat gently, not wanting to startle him, she still did. 

Shocked, though not unhappy from what she could tell, Faustus greeted her, “Zelda, you’re early.” 

“Couldn’t stand listening to Hilda complain about not getting to come this year.” She lied smoothly. 

He smirked, clearly sensing the lie but not calling her out on it. Instead, he set his book down and leaned against the table in the front of the church. “You look lovely, Zels,” he murmured, eyes sweeping over her and his mouth twitching a bit with a smile. 

Smoothing her hands over her dress, she nodded. “Thank you, you clean up nicely yourself, Faustus.” She replied, unable to keep her eyes from taking in his ceremonial mass robes, her lips mirroring his. 

“Zels, about the other week, after the, the demon banishment.” The way he danced around the word exorcism made Zelda smile, and she only felt safe smiling because the Dark Lord usually didn’t wait this long to deal out a price if there was one to pay—it had taken her four nights in a row without sleep to believe this. Faustus continued, recapturing her attention, “if I was overly harsh…” 

She arched a brow, stunned. “Nonsense, I would have reacted far more rashly in your position. I believe we were let off easy by all accounts. The fact that we are not all six feet under is an unholy miracle.” And it could only be the fact that there’d been no serious consequence that had Faustus hinting at an apology. 

Smiling, he shook his head. “I almost did react in such a manner. But with you, it seems, I can never—” Faustus cut himself off as the back door opened and several other tributes filtered in. Ducking his head in frustration, Faustus brought his eyes back to her. “Please take your place with the others, Sister Zelda.” He instructed, the high priest mask back in place. 

A little relieved, Zelda nodded and did as she was bid, going to stand next to Mildred who was, as always, disturbingly eager for the Feast to begin. 

More coven members filtered in and Sabrina still was not among them. Though it was not required of her to be there since Zelda was the family representative, her absence worried Zelda. She knew her niece too well to think she was sitting innocently at home waiting to see if her aunt had been selected. 

There was no time to dwell on it for long though, the ceremony started, and Constance walked down the line in front of the tributes, holding the box of paper slips up. Zelda was just reaching to draw her slip, aware of how Faustus’ eyes were burning into her, when the door banged open. 

“Stop!” Sabrina cried out, striding up the center aisle. Zelda would have snatched her paper anyway, but Constance had lowered the box and turned to face Sabrina as well. “I’ll draw. I’ll draw for the Spellman family.” She announced firmly, staring at Zelda. 

A light sweat broke across Zelda’s skin, “Sabrina, what in Satan’s name are you doing?” She hissed, fear clawing at her throat. 

Sabrina then demanded to be allowed to take her place, to draw, or… Zelda could denounce the whole affair, call it barbaric as Edward had once done. 

Never before had Zelda felt such a strong urge to slap her niece—the fool didn’t understand. It **had** to be her, it was the only way to maintain both her connections in the church and protect Sabrina. If she denounced the tradition, then excommunication was only a moment away— _that_ was certain. 

She’d have to play the odds. Zelda knew punishment and trouble would follow if she called the Feast barbaric. But the odds were in Sabrina’s favor, only a 7% chance she’d be selected as queen. Unwillingly, Zelda told Faustus that there wasn’t an issue, that her ‘brave’ niece wanted to represent the family. Stalking off the stage, Zelda kept her aloof façade as she took a seat; though her insides were twisting violently as she told Sabrina to select her paper. 

Zelda didn’t miss the look of disappointment on her niece’s face, how it disappeared and was replaced with anger and determination as Sabrina straightened her shoulders and marched up to the table. Of all the times Sabrina could have challenged her, challenged the church… why did it have to be now? In such a public forum? 

But there was nothing to be done now. 

Upon the order to burn the papers, however, Zelda couldn’t help but lean forward, anxiously gripping the extra fabric of her dress. Willing, praying, and perhaps letting a silent spell escape her to place that damned slip of paper in another’s hand. 

It burned red. Zelda exhaled shakily, releasing the breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding, and unclenched her hands. She’d played the situation right. The relief of it made her head spin and if she was a second slower in standing than the rest of the coven because of it… no one noticed. Though saddened that such a young, promising witch was to be queen, Zelda only cared that Sabrina had been spared. 

Neither one of them spoke a word the entire way home. Each of them seething. Once they were in the kitchen though, Zelda found she could no longer restrain her anger. 

“Do you realize how close you came to being sacrificed?” She demanded, twisting her fingers a little painfully. 

Sabrina had the gall to look surprised, “I didn’t think you would let me go through with the drawing!” 

The comment stunned her for a moment, was, was Sabrina testing her love for her? Now wasn’t the time to contemplate that, though, so Zelda recomposed herself. 

“Oh,” she intoned, “so it’s **my** fault that you decided to play a game of chicken with me in front of the entire coven. _That’s rich._ ” She yanked off her gloves and shoved them into her bag. For the love of Lucifer, she’d have to knock some sense into this child before she got them all killed… or worse. 

Their conversation was interrupted, though, by the arrival of Prudence. The girls disappeared upstairs, and Ambrose wandered off as well, leaving Zelda and Hilda in the kitchen by themselves. 

Hilda turned on her the moment the kids were out of ear shot. “How could you let her do that?! We agreed, if we were ever to be invited to attend once Sabrina came of age that she would **never** draw. It was your rule! You swore by it.” 

Putting down her food, a proud smile touched on Zelda’s lips. Hilda didn’t let this side of her personality show often, the side that had bark _and_ bite, but the fact that it was coming out now was good. They’d need some of that fire to get Sabrina through this. 

“I did,” Zelda acquiesced, replying to Hilda’s rant. “But Sabrina left me no choice. I _cannot_ be excommunicated as well. Who would be able to check on Sabrina at the academy if I was? Take care of harrowings, fights with classmates and scheduling issues? You’re not allowed on church property, which means you’re not allowed at any future trials, Satan forbid there are any; but I have to be able to go. Who would be in all the future lotteries?” Zelda stood, appetite gone as Wardwell’s words that they couldn’t take care of and protect Sabrina echoed in her mind. “I knew the odds. And I played them correctly.” She declared, hating that her eyes were being to glaze over with tears. 

Her sister was silent for a moment, stunned by Zelda’s outburst, then nodded—if a little unhappily. “I understand. But that doesn’t mean I like it.” 

A shuddering laugh escaped her, “then we’re on the same page, sister. I didn’t like it either. Sabrina is getting reckless, we need to work together if we are to keep her safe.” Zelda gripped Hilda’s hand for a moment before leaving the kitchen, plotting and strategizing on how to survive the Feast when she knew Sabrina would be doing all she could to throw a wrench into it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The next day passed with little incident, praise Satan, Sabrina had taken Prudence to mortal school with her, Ambrose was busy in the morgue and Hilda was at the bookstore. For the first time, she’d relished in the opportunity to do something as mundane as paperwork for the mortuary; things had been far too stressful of late. 

She’d been about to wind down for the evening, read a good book and listen to her records when the phone rang. Sighing, Zelda answered it, barely suppressing her annoyance at the caller’s gall for interrupting her night. The voice on the other end snapped her out of that mood though. 

A panicked babble about cramps, pain and other symptoms that were lost in what sounded like a flood of tears greeted her. 

“Constance!” Zelda interrupted, “where are you? I will teleport immed—” She stopped, “you’re already on your way? Constance you shouldn’t be driving…” The wards alerted her to an incoming presence and moments later a car horn sounded from outside. Knowing who it was, Zelda hung up the phone and rushed to the front door to see Constance hoisting herself out of a car. 

Trying to calm the woman, Zelda ushered her inside and down the stairs to the morgue so she could exam her in private. 

But it became increasingly clear that Zelda wouldn’t get any sort of exam done with Constance in this state. Stating loudly that she was going to get something for her nerves, Zelda rushed upstairs and put on some of Hilda’s calming tea and setting a timer spell before going straight back to the basement—not wanting to leave Constance by herself for long. 

“Constance you _must_ calm down. This is hardly good for the twins. Breathe with me,” she took the woman’s hand and placed it on her chest, so Constance could time her own inhales and exhales. It worked a bit, Constance calmed slightly, no longer hyperventilating, though a sheen of sweat covered her brow. Carefully, so as to not disturb her further, Zelda probed her patient. “Where is Faustus? Why didn’t he bring you? You shouldn’t have come here on your own…” 

Eyes going round, Constance gripped Zelda’s hand hard. “No. Faustus cannot know, I—” and her breathing started to pick up once more. 

Holding up her hands, Zelda made soothing noises, “let’s not think about Faustus, can you tell me what—” Just then the timer spell went off at the same time as the wards around the house, Sabrina was home. “Hold that thought, your tea is ready, I will be back in a moment.” Nodding reassuringly, Zelda hurried up the stairs to catch her niece before she disappeared further into the house. “Sabrina, thank Beelzebub, I need you.” 

Confused, Sabrina looked at her. “For what?” 

“I’ve got Lady Blackwood downstairs on the verge of hysteria; your Aunt Hilda is at that ridiculous book store, but I’ve got a pot of her calming tea on the stove. Fetch it and come down.” She instructed, already heading back down the stairs before Sabrina could reply. 

Zelda barely entered the room again when Constance started to rapidly spout off what happened, grasping Zelda’s hand in hers while the other rested on her swollen stomach. 

“At first, there were cramps, then I saw blood. I was spotting. My babies, are they alright?” Her breathing was increasing again, her grip becoming slightly painful. 

Pressing Constance more fully onto the table, Zelda soothingly rubbed her hand. “Tranquil thoughts, Lady Blackwood, _you’re fine_.” 

Shaking her head, Constance pressed her lips together. “I can’t lose my babies. Faustus would never forgive me. I don’t want to fail him.” 

“Nonsense, you wouldn’t be failing him. He could hardly blame you if the Dark Lord called your children home early.” She patted Constance’s hand and turned to where her niece was standing. “Sabrina, pour the tea.” 

Efficient as ever, Sabrina already had the cup prepared. “Already poured, Aunt Zee.” Sabrina’s quick work and steady hand when faced with an anxious pregnant woman made Zelda proud, a small smile tugging on her lips—perhaps Sabrina would be interested in learning more about midwifery… 

The thought vanished when Constance sat up and eyed the tea suspiciously. “It’s not poison, is it?” 

Keeping how alarmed she was by this assumption hidden was difficult, but Zelda managed it. “Of course not. It’s chamomile with a calming tincture. Drink up.” She handed Constance the cup and saucer, keeping her hands up so she could tilt the cup a bit to ensure Constance drank the whole thing. “Finish every drop, that’s a good girl.” 

“What’s happening? What’s wrong with me?” Thankfully the tincture kicked in quickly, Constance, though still worried, seemed less panicked than before. 

Zelda gently explained that Constance was having a panic attack, causing her blood pressure to become abnormally high. The most logical explanation was that Constance performed some complex magic recently, almost all mothers did it, forgetting how it could stress the pregnancy. She expected Constance to relax, to confess that she had, automatically going to complete some task with magic. But the answer Constance gave her was far from one she could ever anticipate. 

“It was dangerous, but I had to do it.” She nodded slightly, almost to herself, as though to reaffirm in her mind that whatever she’d done had been the right thing. Constance turned to Sabrina, “you understand, don’t you?” 

Sabrina blinked, face blank with confusion. But Zelda lifted a brow minutely and jerked her head towards Constance, trying to convey that Sabrina needed to play into whatever was happening. Catching on, Sabrina agreed, claiming she understood. Zelda hid a smile, her clever girl. 

“You know what they’re really like. Always whispering and… and plotting and I think they’re going to kill my babies,” she whimpered, looking back at Zelda. 

This was far worse than Zelda imagined, “no one is going to hurt your babies. You just have a touch of third trimester hysteria, nothing more.” She helped Constance lay back down, though not quite common, third trimester hysteria certainly seemed to fit this scenario. The fact that Constance was carrying twins likely worsened the symptoms as well. 

But Sabrina, too curious for her own good, couldn’t let it go. “Who’s plotting?” 

Scoffing, Constance settled onto the table more fully. “Those weird sisters,” she gasped, “those sluts.” Zelda froze at the venom in Constance’s tone, exchanging a brief look with Sabrina. But Constance wasn’t done yet, “I won’t let them conspire against me. My children _will_ come first.” 

This was the most advanced case of third trimester hysteria Zelda had even seen, perhaps if she could get Constance to talk through it, she could help her see there was no threat. “Why? Why should the orphans wish you any harm?” 

“All three of the, they think they’re **so** clever. Planning to take what belongs to my children. They would’ve done anything. Hurt them, curse them. So, I had to hurt them first.” Constance remarked, calmer now than she had been the entire time; it sent chills through Zelda. “Kill one, and the others are no threat, or consequence.” 

Looking to Sabrina, Zelda knew that Constance’s hysteria had driven her to do something awful. Swallowing, Zelda poured another cup of calming tea and handed it to Constance. “Drink up and rest. If your blood pressure is lower when you wake you can leave.” 

Smiling gratefully, Constance thanked her, acting as though she hadn’t just admitted to plotting murder. 

Giving Constance a thin smile in return, Zelda took Sabrina by the shoulders and guided her upstairs. They ended up in the kitchen, Zelda paced a bit before leaning against the counter. Sabrina’s voice stopped her racing thoughts. 

“What did Lady Blackwood mean by ‘ **her** children’ come first?” She questioned, hands gripping the back of one of the chairs. 

Pouring herself a cup of calming tea instead of reaching for a cigarette, Zelda furrowed her brow, thinking. “I wonder if Constance might think Father Blackwood has other children.” At Sabrina’s astonished expression, she continued. “He wouldn’t be the first high priest to have dropped the odd bastard child here and there.” 

It was all about the line of succession, because legitimate or not, any child of a current high priest could lay claim to the title. Sabrina rushed away, out the front door and off to the academy to find Prudence. 

Zelda sighed and moved out to the porch to finish her tea. It was likely, that Faustus had other children. Witches lived long enough, often had enough dalliances to leave several bastards in their wake. What was curious was Constance focusing in on Prudence as a possibility. 

But, thinking back on it, Faustus had always shown the girl preference; in his own subtle way. Made sure she was taken in at the academy, kept safe, and Zelda was certain she’d heard Prudence boast that the high priest treated her as a daughter before. Could it be that she truly was? 

It would make sense. 

Setting aside her now empty cup, Zelda conjured a cigarette and lit it, drawing deeply and holding the smoke before releasing it slowly. Well, she might as well wait until Sabrina came home, surely her niece would have some plan concocted and Prudence roped in by the time she returned. 

~~~~~~~~~ 

It was dangerous, this plan. Bold. But dangerous, dosing the high priest and his wife with truth potion, though clever, could end horribly. When Sabrina suggested it, Zelda had closed her eyes and prayed to Satan for patience. 

But she had heard herself the rantings of a hysterical Lady Blackwood. It merited investigation. Which was how she and Hilda found themselves digging through old books trying to find their mother’s truth cake recipe. “

Got it!” Hilda stood up triumphantly, holding the little card aloft. 

Zelda came and stood next to her, looking over her sister’s shoulder. “You have everything you need?” 

Nodding, Hilda smiled, “I believe I do.” 

“Alright, anything I can—” 

Laughing, Hilda pointed out the door. “You can get out of my kitchen, Zelds. You remember the last time you tried to bake?” 

She did. It had been almost a decade ago—Sabrina desperately wanted a birthday cake like her mortal friends and Zelda had caved and tried to make one. Hilda was out checking on a pregnant client who was overdue and Zelda, incorrectly, assumed baking would be easier than cooking. 

The scorch mark from her attempt was still faintly visible on the wall, if you knew where to look and the light was coming through the window just right. 

Smothering a laugh, Zelda settled for a smirk. “I’ll leave you to it then. I need to make sure the rest of the house is in order. It wouldn’t do to have anything remiss that might tip off our guests.” 

“Zelds,” Hilda called when she reached the door. “Is there anything _you’d_ like to ask Father Blackwood while he’s under the effects of the cake?” She asked innocently, pulling out ingredients. 

And Satan help her, “if I didn’t need you to make this cake, Hildegard, you’d be in the Cain pit.” She snapped, and Hilda deflated a bit. It had been some time since her last impromptu burial, some time since Zelda had even threatened her sister with it. And truthfully, Zelda had no intention of tempting fate and having the nightmare Batibat showed her come true. 

But, no harm came from instilling fear and discouraging certain topics of discussion. With a raised brow, Zelda marched out of the room to prepare the rest of the house. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The evening progressed rather smoothly, for which Zelda was immensely grateful. The cake was served and both Faustus and Constance had finished their servings. Testing the waters, Sabrina turned to Faustus and asked why he’d decided to reinstate the Feast after Edward died. 

“The Dark Lord revealed that I _must_ return to our centuries-old traditions.” He punctuated each word with tap of his fork on his plate. 

Sabrina didn’t let the topic continue though, she subtly moved the conversation to the Feast happening that night, speaking of how they would all miss Prudence. Constance wasn’t able to fight the effects of the potion when it came time for her to speak 

“I won’t.” 

The room went still, and a low level of magic started to vibrate in the air as the tension thickened. The look of horror on Faustus’ face deepened as Constance continued to speak, the truth tumbling out of her shocked mouth. 

When she revealed she’d enchanted the lottery box to favor Prudence because she thought her and the other weird sisters were his seed, the look of horror turned to one of steely anger. Though Zelda was astonished Constance had actually meddled with the Feast, she was also grateful—because without her interference it could have been Sabrina. 

Sabrina happily informed them, when Constance exclaimed she didn’t know why she was confessing, that they’d eaten truth cake, which meant they couldn’t lie. Before Faustus could get a word in, the vein in his forehead standing out, Sabrina continued. 

“Did you interfere with any other parts of the Feast, Lady Blackwood?” She asked innocently. 

The woman was trying to fight now, pressing her lips together hard and grinding her teeth, but the potion won out. “I selected two of the families this year as well.” Hatred burned in Constance’s eyes, but she kept talking. “Most were drawn at random, as our Dark Lord wills, but I chose Prudence and your family on purpose.” 

A spell flew to Zelda’s fingers at the news, she restrained it though, barely—the woman was pregnant. “ **My** family.” She ground out, the gratitude she’d felt moments before evaporating completely. “Why?” It was more a demand than a question. 

Turning to sneer at Zelda, Constance growled, “in case the enchantment to pick Prudence didn’t work. Then I could at least try and get rid of **you**. I never thought you’d allow your niece to draw.” 

Plates rattled slightly against the table, and Zelda wasn’t sure if it was her anger or Faustus’ causing it. 

“Constance, how _dare you interfere_ with the Dark Lord’s will. Have you any idea the scandal, the blasphemy you’ve brought upon the church? The consequences you’ve brought upon us?” The glass in his hand shattered, causing the children to flinch. 

Regardless of his temper, Prudence asked if he was, indeed, her father. Faustus fought the spell more effectively than Constance, though he still lost in the end. Then the poor child asked about her mother, and Zelda exhaled quietly, already knowing the witch must be dead, Faustus confirmed her assumption a moment later. 

“By your hand?” Her niece demanded, narrowing her eyes. 

Zelda’s widened, “Sabrina!” She admonished quietly, that may be something Prudence didn’t want to know. Learning you’d been targeted to be sacrificed and eaten, that your father was your headmaster, and that your mother was dead was enough disturbing information for one night. 

But the question had already been asked and Faustus compelled to answer it. Prudence only shed a tear or two at the revelations, though she seemed more upset by the fact the Dark Lord hadn’t chosen her for queen than anything else. 

Then came the final play, they’d discussed this before the Blackwoods arrived, if it was revealed that Constance had a hand in the Feast events, how they would proceed. Sabrina laid it out perfectly, Faustus would outlaw the tradition this year and all years to come, claiming it to be the will of the Dark Lord; and Constance’s treachery would never be revealed. 

Prudence made other demands, petulant ones, dresses and thrones; she had the high priest at her mercy, she could ask for so much more. Perhaps that was only how Zelda thought, though. No matter, the demands would help sell the lie all the better. 

Zelda could tell, however, from the girl’s rigid posture, that she was struggling with processing all of tonight’s events far more than she was letting on. 

Negotiations were made and the second they were done, Constance stood and whisked away as quickly as her ever expanding girth would allow. 

Faustus stayed behind, though, and eyed each of them at the table. Stating stiffly, “Sister Zelda.” 

Knowing what that tone meant, Zelda nodded and gestured for the children to leave the room. They did so reluctantly, Sabrina lingering the longest, clearly unwilling to leave her aunt at the mercy of the high priest they’d just duped. It wasn’t until Zelda smiled at her reassuringly that Sabrina pursed her lips and left. The gesture warmed Zelda’s heart, ever since the exorcism Sabrina had been more attentive. 

Barely waiting for the door to close, Faustus shoved out of his seat and rounded the table. “Why?” He demanded, expression stony. 

She merely arched a brow at him and stood as well, not letting him use the height difference as a power play. “Because your wife all but confessed to tampering when she visited me last night.” 

Running his tongue over his teeth, Faustus took another step closer, almost pinning her to the table. “Why?” He repeated with a growl. 

And really, what harm came from being honest with him? Especially since he had no choice but to be honest with her? “For Sabrina.” 

He nodded, not appeased but at least understanding. Pacing away for a moment, Faustus spun on his heel and was back in her space within seconds, his eyes burning with something altogether different from anger. “I fathered Prudence before we, we… I never did or would have with anyone, not when I was with you.” He stated abruptly, hands coming to a rest on the table on either side of her, effectively trapping her. 

Flustered by his proximity, Zelda swallowed. “Well of course, she’s slightly older than Sabrina. We didn’t, weren’t—” And she wasn’t sure how to finish, not wanting to say they’d been together because that implied a relationship; so, she skipped the description entirely. “Not until Sabrina was almost four, so it hardly matters.” 

Faustus gazed at her sadly, as if she’d missed the point of his declaration. Instead of clarifying, he tilted his head at her, “is there anything else you’d like to ask me, Zels?” He questioned softly, one hand coming up to brush some stray hairs behind her ear, letting his hand linger there. 

Blinking, Zelda tried to determine what game he was playing. Faustus was still very much under the influence of the truth potion. Was he suggesting she ask him something about the two of them? Their past? If she’d hurt him when she’d rejected his proposal? If he’d ever loved her? Was he trying to tell her, in his own way, that he still cared? Did he want her to ask why Constance felt the need to target her? 

Or… 

Or was he simply trying to get her to ask something so he could be the one to reject her this time? State he’d felt nothing, and it had always been political; cut her as deeply as she might once have thought she cut him. Could it be he was trying to suss out her feelings to use them against her? 

This was too dangerous. She couldn’t risk asking him anything along those lines—especially not after what they’d done. Faustus would be looking for an angle to restore the balance between them. She was tempted to ask if there was anything he’d like her to ask, turn the tables on him. But it was a risk she couldn’t take. 

She wasn’t sure what she’d do with the answer. 

So, no. Zelda wouldn’t ask him what she wanted. But she could ask him about what she needed. Taking a small shuddering breath, Zelda side-stepped him and put some distance between them so she could think. 

“How do you know Mary Wardwell?” She knew she would never get such honest answers from him concerning this woman at any other time. 

Faustus’ face dropped in disappointment, she’d clearly not gone in the direction he’d been hoping for, but he quickly adopted a neutral expression once more. “She came to my office, back in October and introduced herself.” 

Knowing he was being as vague as possible while still fulfilling the potion’s compulsion, Zelda pressed for more information. “Did she say she’d been excommunicated from her former coven?” 

“No.” 

Lips twisting, Zelda spun her rings. She needed to avoid yes or no questions. “Who sent her?” She doubted Faustus would know what she meant, that he’d just look at her in confusion, but to her astonishment he answered promptly. 

"The Dark Lord.” 

Zelda faltered at that, she wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting. She knew Wardwell wasn’t commissioned by Edward, but the Dark Lord himself? This was troubling. “What does she want?” 

Sighing, Faustus crossed his arms and leaned against the table. “For Sabrina to sign the Book of the Beast. Don’t we all,” he added in a grumble. 

“Why?” 

Rubbing the back of his neck, Faustus half shrugged. “Because the Dark Lord commands it. Apparently, he didn’t trust either of us to get the job done. I was displeased when I discovered her purpose as well, but considering everything that has happened…” 

Shaking her head in agitation, Zelda started to pace. “Why not come to me? To her family?” 

He gave her a helpless look, “I don’t know, Zels. She doesn’t share much with me.” 

“But if her goal is to get Sabrina to sign, why push the exorcism?” She stopped her pacing and looked at him searchingly. 

“When I asked the same, she claimed it was a step on Sabrina’s journey to signing.” He replied. 

The silverware started to skitter across the table, “it was planned?” Zelda growled, hands clenched tightly. “She put Sabrina in danger, _intentionally_.” 

Holding up his hands to pacify her, Faustus took a step away from the table in case any utensils went airborne. “I didn’t learn of it until after, that it was planned. She came to my office after I spoke with you that night. Likely to make sure I hadn’t excommunicated your family, though you’d already convinced me otherwise.” A smile tugged the corner of his mouth at the memory. 

“Why didn’t you tell me she was here, her plans for Sabrina?” Zelda demanded, a little hurt that he’d kept something pertaining to the safety of her child from her. 

As if sensing this, he closed in on her again, in a comforting manner this time. Taking her hand, Faustus stroked his thumb across the back of it. “I’m still not entirely sure what her plans are, Zelda. Like I said, she doesn’t share with me. All I can say is that she came to me before the dark baptism, told me to stay out of her way and the Dark Lord had commanded her to make sure Sabrina signed.” When she looked away, he gently put a finger under her chin and redirected her gaze back to his. “I **never** thought she would go to such lengths, that she’d endanger your niece. But I was instructed not to tell anyone. And when the representative for the Dark Lord tells you to do something…” 

Pursing her lips, Zelda stepped away from him again. Though she understood, knew she’d have done the same in his position, she still needed to process all this new information. “You need to leave.” She brought her eyes back to him and he was reaching out for her again, looking like he wanted to provide comfort. 

“Zelda, please. I—” 

“Faustus,” she cut in, then exhaled slowly. “I, I am not angry with you. I can see why you withheld the truth, I’d likely have done the same. But I still need to, to think and you,” she smiled ruefully, “you have a Feast to prepare for.” 

He nodded solemnly, stopping to press a brief kiss to her forehead on his way out. 

When she had the room to herself, Zelda slumped into one of the chairs, pinching the bridge of her nose. This, this was _far_ more complicated than she’d anticipated… the Dark Lord himself had sent a witch to ensure Sabrina signed. 

The fact that the Dark Lord was so interested almost paralyzed her with fear, something icy gripping her chest. Zelda knew Sabrina’s name in the book was a price that needed collecting, but these measures seemed extreme. There had to be more to it. But now that she knew Wardwell was so closely connected to the Dark Lord, her previous plans for confronting the woman were off the table. 

Satan wouldn’t appreciate any harm coming to his messenger. 

A few minutes later, Sabrina poked her head back into the parlor, interrupting her thoughts. “Auntie?” She asked carefully, fully entering the room when she realized Faustus was gone. Zelda sat up straighter and schooled her face, but Sabrina hadn’t missed her initial body language. Touching her arm, Sabrina furrowed her brow, “is everything alright? I thought tonight went pretty well…” 

Smiling, Zelda cupped Sabrina’s cheek. “It did, all things considered.” 

“What did Father Blackwood…” 

Standing, Zelda crossed her arms. And knowing she couldn't warn Sabrina away from Wardwell just yet, she lied. “He just wanted to make sure that I’d still be Constance’s midwife. Her pregnancy will be a difficult one and he still thinks I am the best person to see his babes into this realm.” Giving her niece a half-smile, Zelda continued, “he just wants to see and keep everyone safe.” 

Sabrina frowned, “he didn’t keep Prudence safe,” she muttered. 

She raised a brow, “Faustus didn’t think Prudence needed to be kept safe from this, it’s part of the Feast, something that the Dark Lord told him to reinstate. He would have reacted the same no matter who was chosen and offered them up for sacrifice. And, let’s not forget, Prudence didn’t think she needed saving. Until a few hours ago she was quite content with her fate.” 

Mulling this over, Sabrina nodded. “Okay… I suppose it makes sense. I guess I can’t blame him for the Feast… though he could have told the Dark Lord no.” 

Zelda’s eyebrows shot up, “no, he couldn’t have, Sabrina.” 

Her niece rolled her eyes, assuming Zelda was being dramatic. “Fine, I can’t really be mad at him for the Feast or for how everything’s played out. Besides, he agreed to end the tradition, so there’s that!” Sabrina beamed. 

“There’s that.” Zelda repeated, relieved there wouldn’t be any additional strife between Faustus and Sabrina. “Now, there’s only an hour and a half until we have to be at the church. Go get the others and clean this up, your Aunt Hilda has done enough without having to clear the table and do dishes.” 

Nodding, Sabrina left and fetched the others. When they all trooped back into the parlor, Zelda pulled Prudence aside and into the office, sitting her on the couch against the wall that only got used when extended family came to help with funeral arrangements. 

Though Zelda knew she wasn’t someone the girl would normally confide in, Prudence had had several bombs dropped on her and from what Zelda had observed, she wasn’t likely to express much weakness to her sisters. “Are you alright?” 

Prudence scoffed, “of course. Why wouldn’t I be? Why should it matter that Blackwood is my real father? Why should it matter my mother killed herself over something as trivial as marriage instead of staying alive for me? Why should it matter Lady Blackwood tried to murder me via cannibalistic ritual? Why should it matter that not even the Dark Lord wants me?” A lone tear streaked down her cheek despite her flippant tone. “Why should it matter?” Her voice broke slightly and suddenly she slumped against Zelda’s side. 

Freezing for a moment, Zelda regained herself and wrapped an arm tentatively around the girl; surprised when Prudence melted further into her and rested her head on Zelda’s shoulder. Zelda made small, comforting noises, cradling Prudence close. 

After several minutes, Prudence pulled away and turned her head. Zelda allowed the girl a moment to compose herself, knowing she would have wanted the same had the roles been somehow reversed. 

Clearing her throat, Prudence turned back to her. “Thank you, Ms. Spellman,” she stated, face clear of any anguish the night had caused. Zelda mentally applauded the girl’s mask, it was close to perfect, such a shame she’d mastered the skill at such a young age though. 

“Of course, now, go help the others. We don’t have much time before we need to head to the church.” 

Prudence nodded and stood to leave, smoothing out her dress. When she reached the door, though, she paused and turned slightly. “If this wasn’t the Dark Lord’s will, how much else isn’t?” 

Exhaling slowly, Zelda couldn’t help but see so much of herself in this young woman; though Prudence had been disillusioned, at least to an extent, far sooner than she had been. Standing, Zelda clasped her hands in front of her. “That is a dangerous question,” she remarked softly, “be careful who you ask it.” 

The girl tilted her head in understanding, knowing that while Zelda wouldn’t tell anyone she was questioning part of her faith, that didn’t mean others wouldn’t. Zelda wished she could have a real conversation with Prudence, warn her, protect her. But she couldn’t do that without giving herself away. 

Besides, sometimes ignorance was bliss. If only she could go back to a time when she’d been oblivious to the true nature of the Church of Night—life had been so much simpler. 

So, it would have to be enough that they’d spared Prudence the fate of queen. Squeezing the girl’s shoulder, Zelda ushered her out back into the parlor. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Faustus teleported to the academy immediately after leaving the Spellman house, knowing his wife would be there (it was closer to the church than the mansion). His assumption was confirmed by the car parked outside when he arrived at the school. 

He strode into the school and into his office. He hadn’t even gotten the door all the way open when something crashed into the wall next to his head. 

"What took you so long, _dear husband_?” Constance spat, launching a book at him this time. “Pining after Zelda Spellman again?” 

And though he fought it, Faustus couldn’t restrain the “yes,” that escaped his clenched teeth. He should have asked Zelda how long the effects of the cake lasted… hopefully not too long or lying to the entire coven about the Feast being cancelled would be difficult. 

“Did you get what you were looking for?” She sneered, picking up one of his glass paperweights, rolling it between her hands. 

Keeping an eye on the weight, knowing it’d be a projectile soon, Faustus moved further into the room. “No.” 

Constance scoffed, “oh, so she kept her legs closed to you **this** time?” She shouted, throwing the paperweight at his head. 

Prepared for this, Faustus halted the object midair, snatched it up and set it down out of reach. “I’m not sleeping with her.” He ground out. 

That silenced Constance for a moment, clearly, she’d thought he’d been fucking Zelda for some time now. “But you want to,” she accused. 

Huffing, Faustus ran a hand through his hair. “Of course, I do. Half of Greendale does.” 

Shaking her head, Constance leaned against his desk. “Oh, but it’s different for you though, Faustus. Everyone else just lusts for her, understandably, she’s gorgeous, powerful and smart.” Sniffing, Constance cut herself off, agitated by what the truth cake was having her say. “But you,” she refocused, “you **love** her.” 

Faustus struggled against the spell, not wanting to hear what it would force him to say—he’d purposely refused to name his feelings for Zelda for a decade now. But the effects were weakening, and he managed to hold back the words. 

Constance scowled, evidently feeling as though she’d been robbed of concrete evidence she could use against him. 

“What does it even matter, that I lust for Zelda?” He asked, deliberately avoiding another ‘L’ word. “We’ve never been faithful, you were quite the ‘voracious slut’ yourself before falling pregnant.” 

Infuriated, she picked up a stack of graded papers and threw the pile at him; only half reached their target, the others fluttering uselessly to the ground. “Because she gets a side of you that I don’t. You can be kind, soft and considerate, but _only with her_!” She blinked, “why am I still compelled and you are not?” 

He smirked at her disadvantage, "likely the pregnancy prolongs it a bit." Then he registered her words. “I’m considerate of you!” He exclaimed, offended. 

“Of the babies!” She corrected, “checking to see if I’m okay, if I’m comfortable for **their** sake, not mine.” 

Taken aback, Faustus stared at her, “you’re, you’re jealous.” He remarked, stunned. 

Twisting her lips, Constance marched across the office and grabbed a vase. “Yes!” She shouted, hurling the object at him—he caught this with magic as well. 

“Is that why you tried to kill her? Because, because of jealousy?” He approached her slowly, face thunderous. Though he knew he wouldn’t touch her, he badly wanted to hit something. “Prudence, Prudence at least makes sense; no matter how horrendous it is that you targeted my daughter. She could pose a threat to the twins’ inheritance. But Zelda—”

Backing away from his wrath slightly, Constance glared at him. “Zelda Spellman is a threat to me! Because if she ever chose to, she could claim you. And you would go willingly, eagerly.” She scorned, eyes filled with hate. “You’d leave me and the twins for her in a heartbeat.” 

Faustus shook his head, “that’s where you’re wrong, Constance.” He murmured, bringing up a hand to brush her cheek. “I would never leave _the twins_.” 

Before she could reply, an alarm spell went off. Reminding them that they needed to be at the church. They eyed one another for a moment, hatred rolling off each of them, but they knew the roles they had to play. So, straightening their shoulders, they made their way out to the car to head to the church. 

Neither one of them acknowledging that that had been the most honest conversation they’d had in the entirety of their marriage.

During the tense, but silent, drive to the church, Faustus thought back on his conversation with Zelda. Still reveling in his luck that she hadn’t outright asked who Mary Wardwell really was. Instead, she’d worded her questions, unknowingly, in a way that allowed Faustus to hide Lilith’s true identity—he’d avoided using names for a reason when referring to the demoness. 

As much as he wanted to tell Zelda the truth, the Dark Lord was still the one giving orders and if he’d wanted the Spellman aunts in on the plot they would have been from the start.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Due to Sabrina’s position as handmaiden, they had front row seats to the event, along with the other potential tributes. Mildred was going on about how ravenous she was, having fasted for days, Zelda grimaced at her eagerness. Even at her most devout Zelda had never been the fanatic Mildred was. 

Turning her attention to the front of the church, Zelda made eye contact with Prudence as her sisters sang. The girl sat proudly, her face revealing nothing. But there was a rigidity in her posture that would give her away only to someone looking for tells. Sensing Prudence’s apprehension, Zelda raised a brow minutely and gave a small nod of encouragement; to which Prudence lifted her chin a notch in return. 

Thankfully, attention was diverted when Faustus entered, assisting Constance to her chair. When he announced that Prudence would **not** be able to fulfill her duties as queen, a low, angry hum of conversation started among the coven. 

And when he announced the Dark Lord had come to him to reveal that starting now and for years to come the Feast would not be sanctioned, Mildred stood abruptly, interrupting Faustus before he could finish. 

She shouted a “praise Freya!” Before slitting her own throat and crumpling to the ground. The entire coven froze for a moment, Faustus blinked and glanced at Zelda, unsure of how to proceed but knowing he had to do something. 

Even in his brief moment of hesitation, the other members had stood, creeping forward, eyeing Mildred hungrily. Faustus shot her an apologetic look before declaring, “hail Mildred! Queen of the Feast!” 

The coven eagerly echoed the cry and surged forward, snatching up knives and dropping to their knees to devour the witch. Faustus and Prudence joined moments later. 

Gasping, Zelda pressed Sabrina back, trying to partially shield her from the scene. They stood there transfixed in horror and disgust as others continued to push past them. Suddenly, Zelda got ahold of herself and ushered Sabrina out, everyone else too preoccupied to pay them any mind or notice they hadn’t participated. 

On the walk home, Zelda wrapped her arm around Sabrina tightly. Needing to reassure herself that her girl was alright, even if they hadn’t managed to end the bloody tradition, at least Sabrina was safe. She only released Sabrina when they reached the front porch. 

Sighing heavily, Zelda trudged up the steps and into the house in a trance—seeing Mildred die over and over in her minds’ eye. She’d known the witch for decades. 

Sabrina’s voice stopped her as she made her way up the steps to her bedroom. “Aunt Zelda?”

Swallowing, Zelda turned partially, hand still gripping the railing for support. “Yes, Sabrina?” All she wanted was large quantities of alcohol to drown out the images in her head. 

“What would have happened if it was me who was selected queen and not Prudence? Would you have let them do to me what was done to Mildred?” 

Her chin trembled and her stomach turned sour at the very thought. “ **Never.** ” She stated with conviction, already pivoting to ascend the steps once more. 

“But if it was the Dark Lord’s will?” 

The words sliced through Zelda. She’d have thought recent events were enough to prove to her niece that she would do absolutely anything for her. “It wouldn’t have mattered,” she answered, disappointed Sabrina felt the need to confirm that Zelda would have protected her. She nodded firmly and turned to head upstairs once more. 

Not one to let matters rest easily, though, Sabrina trailed after Zelda slightly, “how would you have stopped it?” 

She didn’t turn this time, “by any means necessary.” She answered thickly, thinking the likely scenario would’ve been to offer herself up in Sabrina’s place. Possibly pulling the same stunt as Mildred, slicing her own throat before they had a chance to touch Sabrina if a swap wasn’t permitted. Sensing Sabrina was going to push further, Zelda headed her off. “Now please, Sabrina. I’m tired.” Her voice cracked a bit as she patted the railing and rushed up the stairs to hide her tears. 

The Feast did this to her every time they were chosen to attend. She’d have night terrors for weeks. When she was young, she’d imagined her mother dying, being ripped apart. Her aunts made appearances in these night terrors as well, and when her sister was old enough to attend, Hilda joined the rotation. These particular terrors abated when Edward banned the tradition; only to start anew once the practice was reinstated all those years ago. Zelda was fully aware that Sabrina would now feature in these terrors as well. 

Zelda was just pouring herself a glass of whiskey from the decanter she’d never brought back down from the other night, when the phone rang. Sighing, Zelda picked it up, knowing it was for her.

“I’m not in the mood, Faustus,” she answered tiredly. 

Faustus’ voice greeted her. “Zelda, I am sorry. But what was I supposed to do?”

Scoffing, Zelda propped the phone against her shoulder and finished pouring her drink. “You took the easy way out,” she accused, not wanting to listen to his excuses. 

“I took the _smart_ way out,” he countered angrily. “You saw the coven closing in like vultures, they barely waited for my approval. Had I said no, they’d have rioted and eaten Mildred anyway.” He sighed and it sounded like he was thumping his head lightly against a wall before he continued. “Besides, you know the consequences of faking the Dark Lord’s will-he already came to punish Constance. It took everything I could think of, granting him boons to fulfill at any time of his choosing to spare her for the twins’ sake. If I had faked it as well by claiming he no longer supported the Feast…” 

She knocked back her drink, poured a second, smaller serving and knocked that back too. She understood his actions, the same as she understood why he’d hidden Mary Wardwell from her… that didn’t mean she liked it. She told him as much before baying him goodnight. “Faustus, it has been a trying night. I’m going to bed, I suggest you do the same.” 

“Damned dreams, Zels.” He murmured and hung up. 

Shaking herself, Zelda got ready for bed. Repeating to herself that they’d survived another year and the likelihood of the Spellmans being picked again next year were slim. It was done. It was done and they were safe. 

Trembling slightly, she climbed into bed, quickly drank another measure of whiskey and turned out the lights, the alcohol lulling her to sleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hilda had tried to stay awake. Wanting to hear all about how the coven had taken the news. But after she and Ambrose returned the parlor to its usual state, she’d fallen asleep reading a book sitting in front of the fire. 

The phone ringing woke her up, though someone else answered it before she could collect herself. Glancing at the clock, Hilda started and shot out of her chair. Sabrina and Zelda should have been back for a little while now. 

Setting her book aside and putting out the fire, Hilda rushed upstairs. She knocked on Sabrina’s door first and found her niece sitting cross-legged on her bed in her pajamas, hugging her stuffed rabbit. There was a haunted look on her face. 

“Oh, love, what happened? Why didn’t you and Zelda wake me—“

Turning to her, several tears slipped down Sabrina’s face. “We saved Prudence. Father Blackwood was about to end the Feast for years to come when, when…” She trailed off, shuddering. “Mildred,” she managed, clutching her rabbit tighter. 

At the mention of the name, Hilda knew what had happened. “Oh lamb,” she murmured, sitting next to Sabrina and pulling her into a comforting embrace. “I am so sorry you had to see that. It must have been awful.” She smoothed a hand through Sabrina’s hair and her niece melted into her. 

“Auntie, I don’t want to impose, but could I get some tea with—”

Hilda was already standing, “foxglove. Of course, darling, I’ll be right back.” She bustled off and used magic to hurry along the boiling of the water. Once she’d brought it to Sabrina and seen the sweet girl off to sleep, Hilda furrowed her brow and marched to the bedroom she shared with her sister. More than a little miffed that Zelda hadn’t taken care of Sabrina before going to bed. 

But the remonstration died on her lips when she entered the room. Zelda was twitching and whimpering in bed, pleading with an unseen force to spare her family. Knowing what was coming next, Hilda cast a silencing spell on the room just in time to keep Zelda’s scream from waking the kids. 

Hurrying over, Hilda shook her sister awake. “Zee! You’re having a nightmare.” She informed Zelda when she sat up abruptly. “Want me to make you anything?” 

Violently shaking her head, Zelda curled up into a ball, pale and tears streaming down her face. “I dreamt it was Sabrina,” she confessed in a whisper. “I failed her, Hildie.” 

Making shushing noises, Hilda climbed onto the bed with Zelda, allowing her sister to rest her head in Hilda’s lap. “Oh, Zee,” she murmured, running her fingers soothingly through Zelda’s hair. “It was only a dream, Sabrina is safe in her bed down the hall. You made sure of that.”

“We both did,” Zelda corrected, still shivering. “I’m sorry,” she added, “for all the awful things I’ve ever done to you. I’ve been the most wretched sister and still you comfort me after a night terror. Thank you.” She whispered. 

Humming, Hilda continued to stroke her sister’s hair, knowing Zelda would be lulled back to sleep by the gentle, repetitive action. She’d gotten it down to a science, soothing her sister’s night terrors. They’d already been in full swing by the time Hilda arrived at the academy. 

She wasn’t sure what had happened to Zelda in the few years before Hilda started school, but Zelda never spoke of it; was resolute that her time at the academy was some of her best years. For the most part that might be true, but Hilda knew her sister better than to believe the statement outright. 

Hilda also knew Zelda’s night terrors had increased tenfold in frequency after Edward died and they took Sabrina in. So, yes, Hilda had quite a bit of experience calming her sister’s night terrors. When Zelda eventually quieted, going limp and heavy against her, Hilda carefully extracted herself and slid off the bed. 

She’d researched it once, what caused night terrors in adults. Conditions like anxiety and PTSD came up again and again. Hilda had wanted to bring this up with her sister multiple times, concerned as to what was weighing on Zelda so much that it manifested itself in her dreams repeatedly. But she’d never found the courage… perhaps now, now that Zelda had apologized for the second time in a month, was finally softening towards her again, showing some vulnerability, perhaps now Hilda could broach the topic. 

Perhaps she could help her big sister carry whatever burden she’d put upon herself to hold.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve had several comments on Spellwood, ranging from support to dissent (nothing mean, just opinions—which I understand and encourage) and I wanted to include this note. I know this is a controversial pairing, _especially_ given part two. Everything 2x05 and after between these two in canon was horrendous and I certainly don’t support or encourage that kind of relationship.
> 
> I do have several WIPs (like this one) that I’m rather invested in time and emotion wise that I started _long_ before the craziness that is part two came out. I am going to finish these pieces with the characters as I’ve written them—I’ve gotten somewhat attached to my interpretations. My version of Blackwood was already OOC (in case you hadn’t noticed) and I’m sure he will certainly seem even more OOC now that part 2 came out. 
> 
>  
> 
> As for how I’ll make it work in part 2…. Well, you’ll have to wait and see. Thank you all for the feedback, please continue to give it if you have any 😊
> 
>  
> 
> Alright, enough rambling, here’s the next chapter. Hope you enjoy!

She woke at dawn the next morning, heart pounding and a light sheen of sweat covering her. Another night terror, though not as intense as the ones that tormented her most of the night. Wiping her face with a shaky hand, Zelda went to the bathroom to clean up—no sense in attempting to go back to bed, visions of the feast still danced behind her eyelids. 

The dullness of a morning routine calmed her, slowed her heart rate and helped her forget, momentarily, the horrors that had plagued them recently. The slight pinging from her vanity mirror pulled Zelda from her thoughts and had her scurrying to answer the call on her handheld mirror and moving to the garden so as to not disturb Hilda…. She’d interrupted her sister’s sleep enough already. 

As she settled on one of the benches outside, Abigail’s face greeted her in the mirror. 

“There you are! You promised you’d call me after the Feast!” Her friend exclaimed, lifted a remonstrating brow. 

A watery chuckle escaped Zelda, “I did, I did, but—” And she couldn’t stop how her eyes glazed with tears. Before she could say anything else, Abigail stood up and walked out of sight. Confused, Zelda called after her but to no avail. 

Suddenly, her friend materialized in front of her. “What happened, Zee?” She asked softly, wrapping her robe more tightly around her to fend off the chill before holding her arms open. 

Zelda didn’t answer at first, just stood and walked into Abigail’s waiting arms, and holding her friend tightly. “Do you remember Mildred?” She whispered, eventually pulling back from the hug and sitting on the bench once more, Abigail joining her. 

“She was between our year and Hilda’s, yes? Skittish little witch, if I remember correctly, never quite right after her harrowing—though _that_ one wasn’t us; we were never that bad.” Abigail looked across the yard, though her mind was clearly in the past. “She became absurdly devout, right, wouldn’t hear a single word against what was written in the Satanic Bible—even parts the Anti-Pope himself stated were outdated?” 

She hummed in acknowledgement and then told Abigail everything that occurred in the past 24 hours—even the fact that they drugged the high priest and his wife. Abigail had always been her dearest friend, and until Edward’s death there’d been nothing she hid from her; she saw little reason to censor this particular story, it put no one in danger. 

Though Abigail’s face was expressive throughout the retelling, she remained quiet, only squeezing Zelda’s hand every now and then. When she finished, Zelda sagged against Abigail slightly, the weight of everything simultaneously lifting because she’d shared and settling more heavily on her shoulders at the reminder that this was only the latest event to rock the Spellman house. 

“Satan, Zee, that’s, that’s… no wonder you’re so stressed, and then everything with this Wardwell woman.” Abigail shook her head and wrapped a comforting arm around Zelda. 

“What does Hilda say?” 

Blinking, Zelda pulled back slightly and looked at her friend. “What does Hilda say about what? The Feast? I told you it was her cake—” 

Waving a hand, Abigail interrupted her. “No, not the Feast. About Wardwell.” Zelda looked away then, spinning her rings instead of answering. Abigail waited another moment and then continued. “Surely Hilda suspects the woman as well…” She probed, refusing to let the matter drop. 

“I wouldn’t know, I haven’t discussed it with her.” Zelda muttered, brushing her hair back. “Though Hilda seemed doubtful about certain aspects of Wardwell’s story, she seemed sympathetic to others. The witch did _some_ things right.” 

Abigail sighed, “Zee, you need to talk to and confide in your sister. She—” 

Zelda pushed off the bench and began to pace, “I know what my sister is, Abs. She is good, kind, loyal and smart and I will not put her in harms way as I navigate this viper’s nest.” 

Another sigh, but this one sounded defeated. “You don’t have to shoulder all of this alone.” Abigail murmured, still sitting on the bench. “Have you at least spoken to Sabrina about it? Warned her away from Wardwell?” 

The comment made Zelda laugh, “warn her away?” She asked incredulously, pacing a few more times before restlessly sitting back down next to Abigail. “You haven’t seen Sabrina in a long time. She ran from her dark baptism, Abs. Went up against the Dark Lord in court, this thing with the Feast….” She left out certain events, like the exorcism, Zelda was still waiting for the other shoe to drop for their part in it, so the fewer people who knew the better. “Every time I try and tell her no or warn her against something it only encourages her to pursue the course more, no matter how reckless. The number of sleepless nights I’ve had…” She trailed off, her tone only half joking. 

Suddenly, Abigail stood. “Where is she? This niece of yours?” 

Confused, Zelda just stared at her. “Asleep most likely.” 

“Not for long, she clearly needs a talking to; needs to know the stress she’s causing.” Her friend elaborated, marching towards the house and talking over her shoulder as she went. “It’s astonishing you don’t have an ulcer or haven’t been hospitalized for your high blood pressure. If she’s set on defying you and Hilda, regardless of the circumstances, then perhaps someone outside the family needs to speak with her.” 

Zelda was quick to catch Abigail and lead her back to the bench, a small smile on her lips at her friend’s tenacity. “Not necessary, Abs. Besides, I doubt it would have much impact.” She shrugged a shoulder ruefully. 

Abigail raised a brow and crossed her arms. “You don’t think your niece would be concerned about the harm she is causing you?” 

“Harm?! It’s not harm, she—” Zelda began to argue, she couldn't let anyone see the damage, but Abigail spoke over her. 

“Oh, so you think this is healthy, then? Sleepless nights? Missed meals? Chronic stress? Probably some level of anxiety just waiting to see what she’ll do next and what the consequences will be.” Abigail looked at her sympathetically and had she been anyone else Zelda would have cursed her for it. But Zelda was honestly just glad someone had noticed the extent to which recent events had affected her. 

Shaking her head, Zelda smiled a little. “The offer is appreciated, Abigail, and so is your concern. But this is what it means to raise a teenager.” It wasn’t. Zelda knew it wasn’t. Raising a teenage witch should have entailed nagging her niece about homework, sneaking out and not cursing her new roommates at the academy. Not worrying herself to near exhaustion while trying to keep her family safe from the Dark Lord’s wrath after whatever Sabrina’s latest stunt entailed. 

But she wasn’t going to tell Abigail that; she’d shown enough weakness as it was. Clearing her throat, Zelda continued, “besides, it would do more harm than good, talking to Sabrina. She is headstrong and dislikes hearing anything that goes against what she believes is right.” She lifted a hand to the back of her neck, rolling it slightly side to side. 

An amused huff emanated from Abigail. “Sounds like someone I know. Someone who threatened the _entire academy_ after her little sister was bullied for smuggling her familiars in.” Abigail squeezed her hand once more. “Your niece seems to have inherited your protective streak, Zee.” 

Resting her head in her hands, Zelda scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Abigail elbowed her in the side. “It’s true. You might not do flashy things like try to end the Feast of Feasts, but you were and are constantly protecting those you love. You just do it in silence… and often without taking credit.” 

“You’re being ridiculous, Abs.” She sighed, head still in her hands. “I’m just… I’m just tired,” she whispered, hating herself for admitting it but also feeling relieved for finally saying it out loud. 

Making a sympathetic noise, Abigail tugged Zelda into a hug. “I know,” her friend murmured, rubbing a soothing hand over her back. “I know. Perhaps if you shared some of the burden with someone, someone who is maybe experiencing the same things as you, trying to raise a willful niece…” 

Zelda shoved away from Abigail. “Hilda _doesn’t need to know_ , doesn’t need the stress. I can handle this on my own.” She retorted, crossing her arms. 

Rubbing her forehead, Abigail stood as well and placed her hands on Zelda’s upper arms. “I _know_ you can, Zee. But just because you **are** strong enough to handle it doesn’t mean you have to be.” She lifted a brow and then pulled Zelda into another hug. “I must be off, I left Rebecca to handle the boys all on her own. She’ll manage just fine, of course, but it’s always best not to be outnumbered.” 

Holding her friend tightly, Zelda wished Abigail could stay, that they could get more than a thirty-minute conversation squeezed into their busy lives. “Keep in touch? It’s been too long, and I missed you.” 

A low chuckled escaped Abigail, “same goes for you. _Take care_. Bye, Zee.” She pecked her once on each cheek and backed away a little. “Oh, and Faustus Blackwood is back in your life?” She intoned, grinning wickedly, “don’t think I didn’t miss how you glossed over _that_ part of the story. We’ll talk more about him later,” and before Zelda could dissuade Abigail of the notion, she was gone. 

Shaking her head, Zelda sat back down and remained outside for a little longer, watching the sun fully rise and trying to ignore the fact that it would be an incredibly busy day at the mortuary… Thanksgiving wasn’t a happy time for some mortals; or so they’d learned over the years. 

With one final deep exhale, Zelda went back inside to face what would likely be a draining day. 

It’d only been an hour since Abigail left, but Zelda had already talked to three different clients at length on the phone and two bodies were on their way in. To top it all off, Hilda was no where to be found, which left Zelda to handle the paperwork, the phone calls, coordinating drop offs and dealing with the families when they arrived. Where the heaven was her sister? 

Her stress levels, briefly managed by talking with Abigail, were skyrocketing once more. A brief reprieve from the phone allowed Zelda to cast a quick spell, one that would tell her where in the house Hilda was hiding. Only the spell came up empty. Hilda wasn’t there. 

Annoyed as well as stressed now, Zelda marched into the parlor where she could hear Ambrose and Sabrina talking. “Where’s your Aunt Hilda?” She demanded, striding into the room, a little harried. 

Sabrina furrowed her brow, “she’s working at the bookstore, Aunt Zee. Remember, it’s Black Friday.” 

She’d already begun to pace away at the mention of that infernal bookstore, what had been a good idea before was a nuisance now, but at her niece’s declaration of it being Black Friday, Zelda froze. “It most certainly is not.” She countered, heart pounding hard before she realized she hadn’t missed the holiday. Even with everything going on she’d _never_ forget such an important church event—how the rest of the coven would talk if the Spellmans didn’t show up for Black Friday celebrations. Their position was precarious enough without **that** kind of attention. 

The kids eyed her for a moment, wary of her tone. “No,” Sabrina corrected, “I don’t mean the witches’ Black Friday. I mean it’s Black Friday for mortals. It’s the busiest shopping day of the year.” 

Spinning her rings, Zelda exhaled. That explained why Hilda was gone so early, she must have left while Zelda was talking with Abigail. The phone ringing again brought her back to the moment, and it only frayed her nerves further. 

“It’s also one of _our_ busiest times.” She muttered to no one in particular, “the Kemper bodies are already on their way, and Satan knows who else.” She answered the phone, perhaps with a bit of a clipped tone, but considering everything they’d been through in the last 48 hours, let alone the past month, Zelda figured she could be forgiven. 

But as the voice on the other end of the phone spoke, Zelda’s irritation vanished, and her stomach dropped. “No, we hadn’t heard.” She replied softly, eyes going to Sabrina immediately. Swallowing, Zelda covered the phone and gently informed her niece about the accident down at the mines. 

Eyes wide, Sabrina set her things aside, “but Harvey—” She started, gripping the couch cushions. 

“Go. And pray to Satan he’s all right.” Zelda murmured, not that Sabrina needed much encouraging. The girl was up off the couch and hurrying away. Zelda watched anxiously as Sabrina left, hoping for her sake that the boy was safe. Frowning, she lifted the phone back to her ear to get more details, Ambrose watching her intently the entire time. 

When she finally hung up the phone, Zelda exhaled loudly and rubbed her forehead. When she lifted her eyes, she found Ambrose still studying her. “What?” She snapped, in no mood for his mischief. 

Cocking his head at her tone, Ambrose lifted a shoulder in what was likely supposed to be a nonchalant manner. “It’s just, auntie, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you encourage Sabrina to be with Harvey before. And now you’re praying to Satan for his life?” 

She scoffed, “you know damn well I’m praying for her sake. Can you imagine how much it would destroy her if that mortal boy dies?” No, Zelda didn’t want to think about what it would do to Sabrina if she lost her first love, even if he was a mortal. 

Persistent as ever, though, Ambrose pressed on. “But Aunt Zee, it wasn’t long ago that I saw hellfire in your eyes and the intent to curse said mortal boy off the face of the Earth when you thought he’d defiled my sweet cousin.” He noted, inspecting his nails, though a smile tugged at his mouth. 

“Well, of course. No parent wants to hear about their fifteen year-old child ‘going to the next level’, especially before her dark baptism **and** with a mortal.” Zelda huffed, trying to dismiss Ambrose’s observations. 

Her nephew lifted a brow at her word choice, but merely commented, “have you gone soft, Auntie Zelda?” 

She scowled at him and swatted in his general direction. “Off with you. A busy day just got busier and I’ll need your help.” 

Ambrose merely hopped out of reach and waggled his eyebrows at her playfully before going upstairs to change. Once he was out of sight, Zelda plopped onto the couch the kids had vacated and rested her head on the back. Just when she thought life couldn’t get any more taxing, the mortals had to go and have a tragedy…. The phone rang again, and Zelda groaned before hoisting herself back up to get back to work. 

They were so swamped it felt like she blinked and the day was gone; Zelda couldn’t even be certain she’d eaten all day. It wasn’t until 7:30pm that she got the messages Hilda and Sabrina had left earlier in the day. Explaining where they were and why they wouldn’t be home for the night. 

Though Zelda didn’t like the thought of either of them being gone for the night, the accident in the mines making her want to keep her own family close in case misfortune was contagious, she didn’t ask them to come back. Knowing they were where _they_ needed and wanted to be, even if it wasn’t where Zelda wanted or needed them to be. 

Ambrose having gone upstairs to wash away the day, Zelda ate some toast and made her way to her bedroom. Just because she couldn’t have her family physically close that night, didn’t mean she couldn’t check on them. 

Setting up a ring of candles, Zelda carefully laid down in the middle and uttered the spell for astral projecting. She checked on Hilda first, appearing on the opposite side of the street of the bookstore. Her sister was busy keeping the volunteers refreshed, offering a warm drink and the occasional listening ear when someone wanted it. 

Zelda smiled, her sister… so good, so kind. This, this was why she kept things from Hilda, so that she could do wonderful things like this; Zelda often felt she needed to pour all her energy into her own family, leaving her unable to spare much for anyone else. But Hilda, Hilda was built to give her energy to others, and it wouldn’t be right to force her to focus all of that on three people simply because Zelda struggled sometimes. 

Sighing, Zelda hid around the corner before projecting to her next destination. Suddenly she was in the middle of the Greendale woods, the mines visible only as lights in the distance and the occasional voice drifting through. 

That’s when she noticed Harvey’s truck and the quiet voices sounding from the truck bed. She crept a little closer, just needing to hear Sabrina’s voice before she left. Oh, her sweet girl, so much love to give, just like her Aunt Hilda. Murmuring a quick protection spell over Sabrina, and then Harvey just for good measure, Zelda backed away. 

Satisfied, she ended the spell and sat back up, thinking. It was likely her sister and niece would be in town or out by the mines for the duration of the rescue. The least Zelda could do was to try and see if the rescue efforts were worth it. 

Refreshing her candles, Zelda laid back down to project once more, this time her destination was the mines. Before she could finish the spell, though, Ambrose walked in and broke her concentration. 

“Auntie, you need to eat. I know this because I need to eat, and you ate less than… me.” He trailed off and stared at her. “What are you doing?” 

And though she was looking at him upside down, Zelda still managed to arch her brow at him. “What does it look like?” She drawled, settling back into her original position. 

She heard him set down the plates of food he’d brought up for them before he replied. “It looks like you’re astral projecting.” 

A snort escaped her. “How clever of you to figure _that_ out,” she teased. “Now, if you don’t need anything,” she placed her hands on her chest, readying the spell, when Ambrose stepped into her circle an disturbed the balance necessary to enter the astral plane. “Ambrose,” she warned, cracking an eye open. 

He squatted next to her prone form. “Are you going into the mines to search for the missing miners?” 

“I—” She started to deny and then stopped. When had she become so easy to read? “Perhaps.” Zelda bit out, pushing on his knee a little to urge him out of her circle. 

“Let me.” 

Rolling her eyes, Zelda propped herself up on her elbows to better look at her nephew. “Ambrose, we’ve been over this. You are housebound and not allowed to leave, _including_ your spirit.” She remarked, cocking her head. “Now, remove yourself from my circle, you’re interrupting my spell.” She settled back down and closed her eyes. When he didn’t move, she sighed. “If you insist on being here, you can watch over my body, hmm?” It was a compromise; Zelda didn’t normally allow anyone in the room when she projected. But she could sense Ambrose wasn’t going to be intimidated into leaving her alone, not tonight. 

He ignored her offer. “Yes, I am a felon.” Ambrose acknowledged, “so if anything were to happen, if we were accused of meddling in mortal affairs… well, there’s not much more they can do to me. Besides, you’re stronger than I am. If there is something unsavory in the mines and the projector needs pulling back, well, you’ll have a better chance of reeling me in than I would of you.” 

Damn him, it was a solid argument. And when Zelda sat up completely, the knowing look on Ambrose’s face told her he knew he’d already won. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Zelda shook her head. “You’re not going to move unless I agree to that arrangement, are you?” 

Ambrose grinned at her crookedly, “no.” 

Giving him a small, reluctant smile, Zelda patted his cheek. “Help me up then.” 

Several minutes later, they’d swapped spots and Zelda was second guessing why she was allowing this. But Ambrose just peered up at her and smiled, “ready?” 

Kneeling by his head, Zelda poked his shoulder. “The moment I see a psychopomp, just one, I am bringing you back. I don’t care how far you’ve gotten, understand? I am **not** risking you for some mortal that may already be dead.” 

“I love you too, auntie.” Ambrose replied cheekily, though his smile was sincere. At her unamused glare he reached over and squeezed her hand. “I understand,” he nodded seriously and then assumed the position, chanted the spell and was unconscious. 

It felt like an eternity, waiting, watching vigilantly for any sign of those infernal sparrows. But she didn’t need to worry about them, or even waking Ambrose up. He came back on his own only minutes after going under. 

Rubbing his back and handing him a glass of water, Zelda waited for him to recover. After a minute she couldn’t stand it. “Well?” 

Ambrose looked at her morosely, “it’s bad, auntie.” He rasped, paling slightly as he recalled whatever he’d seen. “There wasn’t a living thing down there.” Disappointment rolled through her, though the news was unsurprising, that didn’t make it comforting. Then Ambrose continued, “the collapse, it was… I don’t think it was natural.” 

Her eyes snapped up to meet his, “what?” 

“There was magic in the air, auntie.” He informed her, rolling his neck and stretching his back. 

A shaky exhale left her, “well, the mines are dug deep into the ground and have been around for as long as I can recall. It’s possible they hit a natural pocket of magic while digging—” Zelda explained. The Greendale mines were impossibly old so the chances of the magic being natural were high, and it was likely that the aged magic was responsible for Ambrose’s experience; untouched pockets of natural magic grew stronger over time and could feel off when encountered. 

But her nephew shook his head. “I don’t think so, Aunt Zee. This magic was different, it felt deliberate. Not a hovering presence as if it had been drilled into, but as if someone sent it there with a purpose.” 

Groaning, Zelda stood and helped Ambrose up before they settled on the edge of her bed. Rubbing her temples, Zelda tried to recall the last time her life hadn’t felt as though it were hurtling through the universe with no regard to her attempts to slow or control its course. Ambrose’s voice recaptured her attention. 

“What do we do, Aunt Zelda?” 

“We tell Sabrina the truth about the older Kinkle boy, and the others. But we _do not_ mention that you think the cause is unnatural. There were many mortals down there, we have no way of knowing who or what caused the collapse or for what reason. If we tell her without all of the information—” 

Ambrose chuckled humorlessly, “my reckless coz will likely go off on one of her misadventures and cause more trouble.” He offered. 

An affectionate smile curled Zelda’s lips, “exactly.” She murmured, running a hand over her face tiredly. 

Reaching over, Ambrose took her free hand from where it’d fallen limply into her lap and squeezed. “I was thinking of having a late dinner and a nightcap. Want to join me, auntie?” He asked, standing up and heading to the door. 

Zelda nodded and stood as well, picking up the plates of food Ambrose brought up as she followed him down the stairs. 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Hilda and Sabrina arrived home early the next morning, the wards alerting Zelda to their presence. She hurried downstairs, knowing neither one of them would be around or awake for long after their grueling night. 

She caught them before they even got inside, it was easier than giving them the opportunity to disappear into the house. “Come inside, the both of you.” 

When they’d all settled at the kitchen table, she and Ambrose gently broke the news; that there were no survivors in the mines. And oh, her sweet girl, she wanted to stop the pain her boyfriend was experiencing. She wanted to keep other people from getting hurt as more search parties entered the mines. 

Unfortunately, Zelda had to tell her no, again. And this had nothing to do with the church or their recent perils and everything to do with protecting witches as a whole and their secret existence. The natural order **must** be maintained, it was one of their basic tenets as witches. 

Thankfully, Sabrina seemed to understand. As horrible as the circumstances were, they could not interfere. Zelda kissed the top of Sabrina’s head and got up to answer the phone that just started to ring, waving Hilda to sit back down and rest. 

“Spellman Mortuary, this is Zelda.” 

It was Mr. Kinkle. Asking about funeral arrangements for his son. Zelda furrowed her brow, of course she knew the boy was dead, but his father… perhaps they’d picked up work at dawn and discovered what she and Ambrose had known for hours? 

Carefully, not wanting to upset anyone in the kitchen further, Zelda carried the phone into the office and shut the door. “Yes, Mr. Kinkle, of course you can come by this afternoon to decide on the details.” She paused and listened, still slightly confused by the whole situation. “Yes, I will see you then. I am so sorry for your loss.” Zelda hung up and stayed in the office for a while, needing to focus on something, anything other than the tragedy in the mine and it seemed paperwork was her most convenient distraction. 

She hadn’t realized how engrossed in the work she’d become until the front door banged open and she heard Harvey yelling, ranting about his father, insurance payouts and no body. 

The words hit Zelda dully, so the man hadn’t searched through the night and the early morning hours and found his son. Pressing her lips together, Zelda did her best to refocus on the day ahead… it would do no one any good if she got emotional now. 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Only, only she wasn’t able to completely hold everything in. She’d made it through the planning with Mr. Kinkle, of course, she was the epitome of professionalism. It was when it came time for the funeral, that she struggled. 

She was barely even able to have a conversation with Ambrose without her voice thickening with tears. And it didn’t go unnoticed. 

“Auntie Zee, are you crying?” Her nephew asked, incredulous, though his voice was no clearer than hers. It’d only been a single tear, and she blamed it on pollen as she attempted to press the offending drop back into her eye. They both knew better, but Ambrose was kind enough not to comment on it again beyond a tight smile. 

Just, just given recent events it was far too easy for her to picture Sabrina in the casket in the other room—had the exorcism gone sideways, had Sabrina drawn the wrong slip of paper at the Feast of Feasts…. Yes, it was **far** too easy to picture Sabrina in the casket, to the point that it was now one of the rotating night terrors that plagued her. 

And as she observed the family, more importantly, Mr. Kinkle, Zelda couldn’t help another well of emotion. This time, though, it was disgust. She normally wouldn’t waste energy on feeling anything towards a mortal, their presence so fleeting it was pointless in her mind. But how could this man not even try and find his son to bury? 

Zelda knew she would move Hell itself if it meant getting Sabrina or Ambrose back. How could this mortal man have so little love in his being? So, yes, perhaps a tear or two escaped her; at how easily it could have been Sabrina, at the lack of love shown by this man who claimed to be a father. 

At least it was only Ambrose. Zelda was confident he would never tell anyone his ‘cold-hearted’ auntie cried at a funeral, a mortal one, no less. Not that anyone would believe him, she hadn’t even cried at Edward’s funeral, why would she shed a tear now? Regardless of whether Ambrose told, or anyone believed him, this was two times in as many days that he’d seen her soft or weak…. She’d need to work on her masks after this; she couldn’t let them slip again. 

Her control over her emotions wasn’t improved by any means when Harvey stood to speak. As he struggled to string a sentence together, a pang of sympathy shot through Zelda. She knew what it was like to lose an older brother, to lose your protector and the one who understood you when no one else did. 

She also knew what is was like to bury an empty casket. The lack of closure. How it could eat away at you, how the memories of all the what-ifs and should-have-dones replayed over and over. Zelda was impressed Harvey was managing this well, had she not had the heartbreak balm for Edward’s funeral she’d have been an incoherent mess. 

Somehow, he soldiered through, though Zelda suspected Sabrina helped him along with some spell or another. It seemed like a good idea… until the fight broke out. 

It was wretched to see, and she and Ambrose moved as one to end it, but they were too slow. The altercation knocked the casket over, spilling the damaged helmet onto the ground. The poor boy fled, Sabrina following immediately after. 

Zelda made sure to block Mr. Kinkle’s path, under the pretense of helping him right the casket. But the horrid man soon pushed past her and marched outside. Making sure to throw a look at Hilda and Ambrose to corral the other guests, Zelda trailed after Mr. Kinkle, coming to a stop a slight distance away, watching and determined not to interfere. 

But when he raised his hand to his child, well, she was getting used to seeing red by now. Moving on instinct, Zelda did something she’d never imagined she’d do; she meddled in mortal affairs. 

And not just meddled, but used magic on a mortal, to protect a mortal, in front of other mortals. But Lucifer help her if she was going to let a child be struck. “Mr. Kinkle!” Her voice carried clearly across the grass; her own hand raised to hold his in place. “This is _your son’s funeral_. Might we honor his memory and compose ourselves? Your guests are leaving, I suggest you do the same.” 

She dropped her hand, freeing the man from her magic. He backed away from Harvey, confused and unsure, flexing his hand as if to try and figure out why it hadn’t done what he wanted. Zelda felt a savage pleasure course inside her at his evident fear. 

A surge of desire to visit him later that night and unleash her full might as a witch shot through her. But she’d interfered enough, and with potential witnesses too. So no, she wouldn’t visit Mr. Kinkle and make him experience the terror he likely inflicted on a daily basis. But she could stand there menacingly as he retreated from his son, skirting around her in fear, too afraid to meet her eyes. 

Smirking, Zelda turned to tend to the other guests, mentally flipping through various hexes to pick the perfect one for the man now rushing to his car and leaving his only remaining son behind. Her smirk morphed into a scowl; perhaps multiple hexes would be in order. 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Hilda found her after all the other guests disappeared and they’d restored the parlor to its normal state; setting a glass of whiskey down next to her. “Well, that was an eventful day.” She commented, taking a sip of her sherry. 

Huffing, Zelda lifted the glass towards Hilda in thanks before taking a long draw. “Eventful doesn’t begin to describe it.” She muttered, gaze still on the fire. 

“I’m not sure what surprised me the most,” Hilda mused, “the fight, Mr. Kinkle’s actions, or that you used magic in the presence of several mortals.” When Zelda whipped around at the statement, her sister merely lifted a brow. “What? You thought no one noticed?” 

Zelda paled, “people noticed?” She croaked; how could she have been so careless? Of course, someone had seen her, Zelda had just assumed they wouldn’t understand what was happening, that they wouldn’t link her raised hand with Mr. Kinkle’s frozen one. She’d just endangered them all. 

Noticing her distress, Hilda set down her glass. “None of the mortals,” she reassured her quickly, and Zelda exhaled shakily, fears quelled, and took another drink. “What I meant, was I noticed.” She smiled, and if Zelda had to name the look on her sister’s face, she’d say it was one of pride. “Oh, and Ms. Wardwell.” 

The small glow that’d ignited in Zelda’s chest at Hilda’s expression died. She’d certainly been aware Wardwell was at the funeral; had watched her carefully as she spoke to Sabrina. But seeing as how Tommy was likely a former student and Harvey a current one, it’d been perfectly proper for the woman to be there. 

That didn’t mean Zelda wasn’t suspicious, but she’d soon had more immediate concerns, like the Kinkle men, to deal with than worry about the subtle moves a certain witch might be making in the few minutes she was in the house. And with everything that happened, Zelda doubted Wardwell had been able to achieve much. 

But she didn’t like the fact that Wardwell saw her perform magic in the presence of mortals. It was dangerous. It gave Wardwell something on her where before Zelda had been the one holding all the cards. 

No matter, the witch had limited access to Sabrina, seeing her only at school. And if Wardwell tried to leverage Zelda in any way with this new development to see Sabrina more… well, Zelda was prepared with her own stash of information. 

“Any one else?” She asked, coming back to the conversation Hilda started. 

Shaking her head, Hilda picked her drink back up. “Just the two of us. Well, and Sabrina and young Harvey, but he has enough going on I doubt he’ll give the occasion a second thought.” Finishing her drink, Hilda stood. “I’m off to bed, I should know better than to pull all-nighters at my age and with the rescue called off I’m not needed at the store. Sabrina is out, meeting someone at Dr. Cee’s, I think Harvey.” She shrugged lightly and covered a yawn. “Night Zelds,” she squeezed Zelda’s shoulder as she left the room. 

Zelda stared back at the fire and nursed her whiskey. After the crazy day she’d had, this was the best thing she could have asked for to wind down, whiskey and silence. 

When the doorbell rang only ten minutes later, Zelda truly considered ignoring it. Likely it was some customer thinking because they were a mortuary and dealt with death, which followed no schedule, that normal business hours didn’t apply to them. 

But as the bell rang again, Zelda sadly vanished her whiskey, straightened her dress and made for the door—knowing Hilda was getting some well-deserved rest and Ambrose was squirreled away upstairs and therefore unable to hear the bell. 

When she opened the door, Zelda blinked, taken aback. “Father Blackwood!” His title escaping her lips in her surprise. Surely this wasn’t about her use of magic on a mortal earlier. “We’ve had quite the day here, but do come in.” She stated, a little sarcastically, seeing as how he’d brushed right past her and into the foyer. Hazarding a guess, and not wanting him to think she was guilty of meddling, Zelda asked if he was there for an update about Constance—who was still her patient despite the recent Feast debacle. 

“In fact, I’m here to see your nephew.” He informed her, hanging up his hat and coat. 

Zelda’s heart leapt to her throat; she never should have let Ambrose astral project. Not a second time, the witching council had found out and now they’d sent Faustus to dole out the punishment. Clearing her throat, Zelda nodded. “And what would that be about?” 

Raising a brow, the corners of Faustus’ lips twitched up. “Always so protective,” he teased before turning slightly more serious. “One of my acolytes, Luke, brought your nephew’s case to my attention. I admit, I promised to look at it solely as a goodwill gesture with no intent of acting on it. But as I reviewed his dossier, I was impressed and then surprised at the length and severity of his sentence.” 

“Surely you weren’t unfamiliar with it to begin with,” Zelda remarked, crossing her arms. “He is a felon in _your_ church, technically under _your_ charge.” 

Faustus lifted his hands to acquiesce, “Ambrose’s sentence was determined and given in Italy, where his crime occurred. It was also before my time as high priest at the Church of Night here in Greendale, so I did not follow it closely. And, I confess that reading up on your nephew’s circumstance, when it was already decades into the sentence and he was behaving, was never high on my to-do list considering everything else I took on after Edward passed.” 

She narrowed her eyes, suspicious. This had to be some way for him to get back at them for dosing them with the truth cake the other night. But as much as Zelda wanted to turn Faustus away, she couldn’t. His offer to answer anything she wanted while he was under the effects of the cake gave her pause—made her want to believe in him and that he was there to help Ambrose. 

Ultimately, though, it wasn’t her decision to make. Nodding slowly, Zelda directed Faustus to the parlor, refreshed the fire with a flick of her wrist and went to find Ambrose. When she found him in the attic and told him why Faustus was there, Zelda couldn’t help but caution him. Based on the broad grin on her nephew’s face, though, she could tell he’d already decided to trust the high priest. 

Framing his face, Zelda smiled softly. “Good luck, keep your head about you. Don’t accept anything up front, ask for time to consider the offer. If he doesn’t give that to you, then something is wrong with the offer to begin with.” 

Bouncing excitedly, Ambrose nodded. “Of course, of course, auntie. I know.” He pecked her on the cheek and then bounded off to the parlor. She followed at a much slower pace, pausing at the bottom of the stairs to eye the door. 

Zelda considered eavesdropping on the conversation. But she shook herself and went into the kitchen to pour herself that drink she hadn’t gotten to finish and to contemplate what to do about the high priest. 

As she nursed her whiskey, Zelda kept an eye on the front door to make sure Faustus didn’t leave without her knowing. Though she wasn’t entirely sure what she’d do when he finished speaking with Ambrose, she knew she had to talk to the man. 

Her family was defying the church in some way every other day, or so it seemed—dark baptisms, false god baptisms, trials, harrowings, exorcisms, the Feast of Feasts… it’d put them in a precarious position, one Zelda intended to rectify. 

And one way to re-secure their position, to remind Faustus her faith in the church was as strong as ever and that she needed to church, was to ask for a Satanic confession. It would show him she still believed in the church and its ways, that she was contrite about her role in flouting the church’s ways… yes, a Satanic confession was just what was needed. 

She also believed this particular request would be difficult for Faustus to refuse, it was his duty as high priest, and Zelda didn’t think if she merely asked for a word that he’d stay. But considering the last few times he’d been in the Spellman house she’d threatened him and then drugged him with truth cake, she couldn’t really blame him for any wariness. 

Smiling, Zelda finished her drink just as Ambrose opened the parlor door and thanked Faustus, stating he’d consider the offer and tell him in the morning. Ambrose nodded at her as he mounted the stairs, and though Zelda badly wanted to follow him and discuss what happened, she had other matters to attend to. 

Which was how she found herself purring her request in his ear; she knew what buttons of his to push, and physical proximity was the easiest…. Not that she really minded, her body practically hummed when it brushed against him before she moved to the parlor, Faustus trailing after her. 

They’d settled in chairs across from one another, as appropriate for a confession, but they didn’t hold these positions for long. Faustus telling her to kneel in front of him, holding out his hand for her to take with a slight gleam in his eye. 

Zelda barely restrained an eye roll but did as she was bid. She knew how to play their old game; seeing who could subtly, or not so subtly, tip the power scale in their favor. And recently she’d tipped it more and more in her direction—the manipulation after the exorcism, the truth cake, refusing to ask him what he wanted once he was dosed, leaving him somewhat exposed. 

Yes, right now Zelda had more power out of the two of them in whatever kind of relationship this was. So, Faustus instructing her to kneel before him was just his way of trying to tip the scale back in his favor. 

She’d humor him, let him think he was winning this round. It cost her nothing to give him this, to let him think he was in control when really she was orchestrating the entire encounter. So, she knelt and took the hand he offered, pressing her lips to the back of it just so she could watch him poorly suppress a shiver at the contact. Yes, she knew their game well. 

When she’d come up with the idea of a confession, Zelda intended to make up the whole thing. But as she knelt there, the truth, as much as she could tell of it, came tumbling out. 

“I’ve fought to hold the Spellmans to the mark since Edward’s death.” She exhaled shakily, her grip tightening on his hand. “But we’re a fallen family. Half-mortal, house-arrested, excommunicated. There are times I feel like I’m running a halfway house for wayward witches.” While she did sometimes feel as though she ran a halfway house, what she didn’t mention to Faustus was that she was chief among them. A witch with broken faith, upholding a charade that’d lasted a decade and a half… it was too much. 

Too much. And she found herself uttering something she tried to bury except for during her punishments. “I’m failing, Father.” Tears filled her eyes and constricted her throat at the admission. And though she no longer put stock in Satan or his confessions, it was a relief to voice her concerns, her failings, even if they weren’t completely true, and to not hold it all in for once. 

Faustus swallowed hard and squeezed her hand hard at her last statement and a strange expression crossed his face. And for a second, she thought he might lean closer and tell her she was speaking nonsense, that of course she wasn’t failing. 

Instead, he pressed back into the chair, sitting so stiffly that Zelda wondered what he was trying to hold back. Part of her didn’t want him to hold back. After a moment Faustus cleared his throat and rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. 

His next words were a balm she didn’t realize she needed. “Unlike the false god, the Dark Lord accepts our weakness. He knows we are made of flesh and failure. This is our nature, Zelda.” 

It was a relief. A relief to hear that her anxiety and weakness were common. And when he moved to the edge of his seat and engulfed her hand between his, stroking his fingers along the back of her wrist and hand soothingly, expressing that he too experienced weakness and failure, Zelda wanted to kiss him. Kiss him for listening so intently, for comforting her, for telling her her fears were valid and normal, for letting her know she wasn’t alone. Heaven, she wanted to kiss him just to kiss him. But she forced herself to focus on what he was saying. 

“Of course you know, Constance threatened my faith with her transgression at the lottery.” He shared, still grasping her hand between his. “I never…” he paused and sighed. “I’ve always prided myself in how strong my faith is in our Dark Lord. Never once failing to do as He asked, even in the face of the most difficult devotions. I may not have been the most enthusiastic follower at times, as you know I was reluctant to be the prosecutor in Sabrina’s trial when surely a less public recourse could have been taken. And when He asked me—” Faustus caught himself and stopped talking abruptly, as though he’d almost given something away. He focused on tracing the veins on the back of her hand for a moment, quiet. 

Curious, Zelda squeezed his hand, “Faustus?” 

Inhaling deeply, he brought his gaze back to her. “Let us say what happened with the Feast and the consequences we almost paid because of them was not the first occasion to make me question my faith.” And Zelda’s heart stuttered at the admission; so, even the high priest doubted their venerable Dark Lord. “This time though, what Constance did, falsifying the Dark Lord’s will, attacking Prudence, attacking you, it…” Faustus exhaled slowly and started to play with her fingers. “What I mean to say, Zelda, is you are not alone in your struggle. We are but flawed beings, as the Dark Lord knows, so we must resist from holding ourselves up to unreachable and perfect standards.” 

A small smile touched on Zelda’s lips and she wanted to kiss him all the more. She knew he was holding something back, but then again, so was she. In any case, this entire interaction had taken her by surprise, she hadn’t expected to actually feel better… apparently the truth, or parts of it, could be useful. The smile almost turned into a smirk at Faustus’ next words, how Constance was denying him. 

This, this wasn’t a surprise, the hostility rolling off that woman was palpable… or maybe that was only towards Zelda now. Regardless, Constance refusing Faustus was news she hadn’t expected to hear but didn’t find particularly shocking. What else she didn’t find shocking was this turn in the conversation; she had been the one to start their game anew with no consideration for personal space, after all. 

But he was alluding to more, telling her in not so many words that he knew what it was like to be rejected by someone who was meant to be close to you. That he understood her and her uncertain relationships with her family. Of course, she knew he was also hoping for something physical to come of this encounter. But his next words only confirmed that she hadn’t been wrong in reading between the lines. 

Faustus leaned in closer, “to be forsaken, untouched… that is not the Dark Lord’s will, for any of us.” His voice trembled a little with emotion and Zelda couldn’t remember a time in recent memory when she’d seen him so raw, to the point that he confessed about doubting his faith, about his feelings, about rejection. 

And oh, how she agreed, how she could relate. Zelda was tired of being forsaken by her family, and for mortals no less. First Edward with Diana, now Sabrina with Harvey, and Hilda with the bookstore. Only Ambrose was left and that was because he had no choice, he was forced to be there. And soon he might forsake her as well. 

She was tired of being untouched except when her life was on the line. And his touch, he gave his touch so freely, so willingly and expecting nothing in return; all the reassuring hand squeezes, tender forehead kisses, and gentle caresses of her cheek from the past few weeks flooded her mind. And Zelda found that she didn’t want to push Faustus away anymore, not when all she wanted to do was pull him in. 

So, she didn’t object when he fell to his knees and kissed her hungrily, his hands pressed hard against her body, drawing her up and closer as if he couldn’t get enough. For the first time in years, Zelda allowed herself to want, allowed herself to be selfish as she eagerly kissed Faustus back. 

While this wasn’t what she’d anticipated when she’d started their interaction, Zelda certainly wasn’t going to complain. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t notice how easily they fell back into sync. Lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the passionate kiss. And Zelda knew she would be lying to herself later on, when she replayed this moment in her head over and over, when she denied feeling far more than lust when he pulled back slightly and cupped her cheek tenderly, an action that contrasted so vastly with the fierce way he’d been kissing and clutching at her seconds before. 

He’d peered into her eyes and Zelda couldn’t help but sigh and sink back into another kiss, clasping onto his forearm as his other arm banded around her back and held her closer. 

She knew it was wrong, that letting Faustus back in would only create more problems. But Zelda couldn’t find it in herself to care, not now. Not when someone was finally willing to give instead of take from her. Now when his fevered touch and kisses soothed something inside her that she’d neglected for years. 

So no, she didn’t complain when the kiss intensified once more, when Faustus’ hand crept from her cheek and into her hair while the other reached up and tugged the zipper on the back of her dress down. His hand greedily slipping beneath the fabric to caress the bare skin of her upper back, only for him to growl in disapproval moments later; his exploration of her skin interrupted by the silk slip she was wearing under her dress. 

Unable to help it, Zelda smiled into the kiss at his reaction, and Faustus had no choice but to pull away to finish divesting her of her dress. He was quick to free her arms and to push the fabric down so that it pooled on the ground around her knees. 

“Satan, Zelda,” he murmured, pausing a moment as his eyes swept over her; pupils dilating with desire as they traced her body and then snapped back to her face. “I—” She cut off whatever he was about to say with a searing kiss. She was done talking, they’d finally crossed the line, after all these years… after denying herself for so long, she wasn’t going to let words delay them now. 

Her hands stripped him of his shirt and ridiculous ascot, though aesthetically pleasing, Zelda couldn’t help but relish in throwing it aside so she could assault his neck with her lips. She then made quick work of his belt before pushing his pants down, leaving him in his boxers. Faustus groaned in response and slid his hands under the hem of her slip and yanked it up and away in one smooth motion, timing it perfectly with her pulling back to attack the other side of his throat. 

A gasp escaped her, but a wide smile pulled on her lips. It wasn’t as though she’d been celibate during their time apart; far from it, Zelda had had a number of lovers over the years, though they were all just a way to itch a scratch whenever her own ministrations didn’t suffice. But Faustus, he’d always been able to surprise and pleasure her in ways no one else could, reading her and giving her what she wanted without her voicing a thing. 

And their years apart hadn’t robbed Faustus of his knowledge of her body. Heat was already pooling in her stomach and working its way lower as his hands roamed over her, caressing, rubbing and gripping her in all the right places. 

But she didn’t want to be teased or played with, not today. So, Zelda wrapped one arm around his neck and pulled Faustus down and on top of her while the other pushed his boxers down. 

Kissing her eagerly, Faustus followed her down to the floor willingly. He broke away for a moment, a whispered spell leaving his lips and suddenly their clothes were no longer awkwardly hanging off them but piled several feet away on the floor. 

Zelda hummed in approval and pulled Faustus in once more. 

~~~~~~~~ 

She came suddenly, a praise Satan on her lips with Faustus following moments later, his voice growling her name in her ear. When he finally stilled, Zelda was stunned when Faustus held his position—partially hovering over her, propped on his elbows and her legs wrapped loosely around his waist. 

To be honest, she’d expected him to pull away, dress with a wave of his hand and be out the door within the matter of a minute. He’d certainly gotten _far_ more than he’d initially come for, after all. But Faustus didn’t move, other than to gently smooth back some stray hairs off her face. He simply watched her, eyes filled with some emotion she refused to acknowledge, let alone name—though it was reminiscent of how he’d gazed at her almost a decade ago. 

Needing to break the moment before she read too much into it, Zelda tilted her head. “Faustus?” She asked, furrowing her brow a little. 

The corner of his mouth tugged up with a smile and he leaned in for a soft kiss. Zelda couldn’t help but return it, and when he lowered more of his weight onto her and deepened the kiss, she welcomed that as well. 

But a thump upstairs broke them apart, and Zelda could have sworn she saw disappointment flash across his features when he slowly pulled away and picked himself up from the floor to dress. In another unprecedented move, Faustus dressed without magic, as if hoping to prolong their interaction. 

Following suit, Zelda stood and started to dress manually as well, not wanting to appear overeager to hide what they’d done; though she did wave a hand to dispel the smell and clean the carpet. Once back in her undergarments and slip, Zelda abandoned getting dressed in favor of a cigarette—nothing quite matched the rush of nicotine after sex. She’d just taken her first long draw of nicotine when she felt Faustus come up behind her. 

“Satan, Zels,” he murmured, “I missed you.” He swept her hair over one of her shoulders and paused a moment before kissing the back of her neck, his hands ghosting along her still mostly bare back and shoulders. “Why did we ever stop?” He asked, peppering her skin with more kisses as his hands slid down and wrapped around her waist from behind and pulled her closer. 

A million reasons why popped into her head, but for some inexplicable reason, Zelda didn’t name one. She just hummed and leaned into his embrace, wondering when he’d gotten so gentle. Because even when they’d started all this, so long ago, the touches had always had some sort of edge to them, a hunger… Satan, even moments ago they’d had a rather frenzied fuck on the carpet. 

But she wasn’t going to say anything, the world was hard enough; intimacy didn’t always have to be too. So, she let his hands brush along her sides, rasping against the silk of her slip as his mouth continued its slow path along her neck. 

Sadly, Faustus ended his reacquaintance with her body and rested his chin on her shoulder. “I must go, but I imagine I’ll be back tomorrow for Ambrose’s decision.” His arms tightened around her minutely as he spoke and she pressed back against him more heavily, relishing in the physical contact and comfort while she could, while Faustus was the one initiating it. “I hope to see you tomorrow as well,” he added, placing a lone last lingering kiss on her neck before he was suddenly gone; having teleported away. 

She immediately missed his warmth but shook her head at her sentimentality—he’d only wanted the sex; she shouldn’t delude herself into thinking it was more. Flicking a wrist, Zelda was fully dressed and the fire doused. 

Checking to make sure he’d teleported his coat and hat with him, which had been hanging in the hall, Zelda headed upstairs. Perhaps they could do this again, a physical relationship, that is. She’d certainly missed it—the pleasant ache between her legs a delicious reminder. It’d worked for them before, the physical part, and now Faustus was married so there was no need to worry about either of them wanting to take things further. 

Yes, perhaps this was something they could try. Perhaps this was something Zelda could do for herself. Smiling at the thought, Zelda went to get ready for bed; exhausted now for an entirely different, but much preferable, reason. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Faustus reappeared in his front hall, humming quietly as he hung up the coat and hat he’d almost forgotten at the Spellmans. A wide smile spread across his face when he caught sight of a smear of lipstick on his collar when he passed a mirror on his way to the kitchen. 

She’d _finally_ let him back in. Confided in him, asked for help and reassurance and he’d provided it and lifted some of his own burdens by sharing as well. They’d always been good at that, easing one another’s burdens—even when they were at their worst and most competitive in the academy, they’d been good. The interaction in the parlor had reminded him so fiercely of their time together before that he couldn’t help but push his luck and kiss her. 

And she’d let him. Had returned the kiss with equal fervor. 

It’d set him on fire, body and soul. Satan, that was what it was supposed to feel like when you kissed someone, when you had sex with someone. He’d forgotten, or perhaps, perhaps Zelda was the only one capable of making him feel this way…. Faustus found himself preferring the latter. 

Making his way to the kitchen to pour himself a drink, Faustus was already reliving the night and hoping to reenact the events the next day. The sounds of her little gasps and moans, the feel of her skin against his, the way her perfume had surrounded him... now that the sensations had been re-seared into his brain, Faustus certainly couldn’t let her go, not again. Sipping on his drink, he made his way to his bedroom, Constance likely already asleep in hers. 

As he readied for bed, taking an occasional sip of scotch as he did, Faustus couldn’t help but glance in the mirror at the nail marks Zelda left along his shoulders and back. Thankfully his tattoos were enchanted to withstand damage, otherwise she’d have worn streaks through the ink long ago. 

His admiration for how she’d marked him faded then, the marks he’d seen on her back before he left floating before his eyes. Was that what she liked now? They’d always enjoyed a little pain with their pleasure… some biting, nail scratching, light bruising, maybe a little blood drawn here and there. But Zelda, she’d clearly progressed to a more intense level of pain and pleasure in their time apart—a level that left permanent scars. 

Well, Faustus frowned a little, if that was what she wanted… he could provide that. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The next morning, after having waited the required amount of time for Constance’s urine to ferment, Zelda conducted the spell which would reveal the genders of the babes she carried. If nothing else, when Faustus came later she could share this information with him. And it would mean she wouldn’t have to contact Constance to let her know—the fewer interactions she had with the witch the better. 

She waited impatiently for the spell to settle, playing with her necklace as memories from last night flashed before her eyes. Shaking herself, Zelda stood and paced the room. She wasn’t some school girl with a crush to be mooning over some man. Yes, the sex had been incredible, yes, she wanted to do it again… and again. But that didn’t mean her thoughts had to be drifting to the man with frightening regularity. 

Her timer dinged, alerting her that the spell was ready. Taking a deep breath, Zelda opened the small box gingerly. A two headed snail… well, it appeared as though the Dark Lord was finally giving Faustus the heirs he so desired. 

Carefully, Zelda carried the box upstairs with her to the kitchen. This was excellent news, though gender spells did have margins for error, especially with twins, the omen of a two-headed snail would please Faustus all the same. And perhaps, perhaps he’d be wanting to celebrate the news… 

Smiling Zelda prepared a cup of tea and picked up her paper, though she had trouble focusing on the print in front of her. Her mind already jumping ahead to the delights the rest of the day might hold. When Hilda breezed through the kitchen on her way to work, Zelda wasn’t exactly inconspicuous in her morning-after glow. But her sister merely eyed her oddly and was out the door, that ridiculous wig wobbling slightly on her head. 

Ambrose found her soon after Hilda left. And where Hilda had failed to fully pull Zelda out of her thoughts of the night before, Ambrose’s voice completely captured her attention. 

“Auntie Zee, I need your advice.” He perched himself on top of the counter next to where she was standing. “About what to do with Father Blackwood’s offer.” 

Folding her paper, Zelda turned to face Ambrose. “I cannot make this decision for you, darling.” She placed her hand on his knee comfortingly. 

Her nephew nodded and picked up the spoon she’d used to stir her tea and fiddled with it. “I know, auntie, but I still want to know what you think.” Ambrose looked at her imploringly. 

And really, she already couldn’t say no to either of the kids, and this was a relatively innocent request compared to astral projecting. Smiling softly, Zelda nodded and moved to take a seat at the table, Ambrose joining her immediately. 

“Father Blackwood told me that if I gave up my co-conspirators in the plot to blow up the Vatican that I could go free.” Ambrose informed her without hesitation. 

Zelda mulled this over for a moment, “it’s the same deal the Anti-Pope offered you when you were first sentenced, correct?” 

Resting his forearms on the table, Ambrose nodded, “it is.” 

“Do your reasons for not turning in your co-conspirators still stand?” She asked, tilting her head slightly to study him. 

A sigh escaped Ambrose, “my reasons are—” 

She held up a hand, “your own. I’m not asking for you to tell me why you came to your decision in the first place.” And he visibly relaxed at the comment. Though Ambrose was open with his aunts about most things, that part of his life was still shrouded in shadow and secrets; and they let him keep it that way. Satan knew he had control over little else at the moment. “What I am asking, darling, is if those reasons still hold true. If they do, then I think you have your answer.” She looked at him closely, wishing she could give him the right answer here. “If those reasons no longer seem valid, or even if you doubt some of them… then perhaps you need to reconsider.” 

Furrowing his brow, Ambrose traced a whirl in the table with his thumb nail. “And which one will win me my freedom, auntie?” 

Zelda reached over and rested her hand on his forearm. “Don’t think of it that way, Ambrose.” She warned him, knowing the boy was desperate for freedom but also knowing if he achieved it in the wrong way his mind would never be truly free. “Which way would you be able to live with in the centuries to come? That’s the question you should be asking yourself.” She squeezed his arm encouragingly. 

The lines in Ambrose’s forehead smoothed out, though he pressed his lips together. “Thank you, auntie. I think I’d already reached this conclusion, but I just needed to talk it out, hear it from someone else.” Lifting his gaze, Ambrose gave her a small smile before standing, pecking her on the cheek and heading back upstairs. 

She watched him leave and exhaled slowly before reaching for a cigarette. As much as it pained her to not be able to fix this for him, Zelda knew it was a decision he had to reach on his own. 

With a slight flick of her fingers, her paper flew over to her and she started to read it once more. Fifteen minutes later, the door bell rang. 

Ambrose came hurtling down the stairs before stopping right in front of the door, straightening his clothes and composing himself before opening it. “Father Blackwood,” he greeted, stepping aside to let the high priest inside. 

“Brother Ambrose,” Faustus returned, hanging up his things. “I hope you have an answer for me.” 

Nodding jerkily, Ambrose held out his arm to direct Faustus up the stairs. Only when the two disappeared did Zelda drop the paper and rub her temples. She dearly hoped 

Ambrose would make the right decision, he’d paid his price, he deserved some freedom… to not be locked up here with only her, Hilda and Sabrina as company; and occasionally that boy Luke. Her nephew was meant for far greater things than being cooped up in the Spellman house. 

Zelda waited ten minutes before going to take up her spot in the hall, blocking the only way to the stairs. The approach certainly wasn’t playing hard to get, but Zelda didn’t care, she wasn’t in the mood to play that particular game. Besides, he’d already had her the night before, why bother pretending he hadn’t? 

So, Zelda caught Faustus in the hallway, told him she needed to show him something… in private. He followed willingly, and when she produced the box with the two-headed snail, he looked at her in confusion. 

“What does it mean?” He brought his eyes back to hers. 

Snapping the lid shut, Zelda shook her head minutely. Of course he didn’t know, it was a midwife’s saying. “Snips and snails, Faustus.” She clarified, setting the box aside before going on to explain that it was likely the Dark Lord had seen fit to give him two boys. 

The way Faustus’ eyes lit up and how he murmured, “twin sons?” All but melted Zelda’s heart, and it sent heat into other body parts as well. 

She went on to call him blessed, knowing it would stoke his ego and, at the same time, stoke his libido. Just as he knew her body, she knew his. And when his eyes darkened slightly, she pressed herself against him and went for a kiss. 

Only, only he stood stiffly and did not return her affections. He’d, he’d rejected her. And every insecurity that had been lifted from their encounter came back with a crushing force…. The insecurities and fear. She’d overstepped, somehow misunderstood the situation, how he’d acted afterwards, claiming he hoped to see her today as well. 

What had she done? 

Horror rolled through her, but she kept her voice surprisingly calm. “Faustus? After the other day…” 

He interrupted her, claiming they’d shared a moment, shared weaknesses but that he’d been wrong in his response. And then he said those next, dreaded words. “I was remiss not to assign you penance.” 

No, it couldn’t have been only a one-night stand to him. It couldn’t have, but the stern expression on his face did not bode well. “Penance?!” She repeated, astonished and insides twisting. 

“Flagellation, Sister.” And Zelda’s throat tightened at the word, surely not…. “To strengthen the body and will. Thirty lashes should suffice. I assume you have a cat o’nine tails?” He looked at her expectantly, and Zelda’s breath stuttered in her lungs. 

Blinking, she forced herself to reply steadily, “I do… somewhere.” It was an easy lie to tell, and one that was out of her mouth before she realized it. Zelda knew _exactly_ where it was; where she’d left it after Batibat visited them the other week—in the trunk at the foot of her bed. 

Perhaps it was best she’d lied, admitting to having the whip readily on hand might make it appear as though she had much to atone for—she did, not in regard to the church, but she knew Faustus wouldn’t make the distinction; and why would he? To everyone else she was still faithful, so they’d see her punishments as a result of transgressions against the church, not her failing her family. Faustus’ voice brought her back. 

Nodding, Faustus dropped his cane onto the bed. “Good, we’ll do it here then. Your door has a lock, I presume?” He remarked, taking off his coat as well. 

“It does, but… I don’t understand.” She admitted, hands clenching at her sides, palms sweaty. It was one thing when she punished herself this way, but if Faustus did or asked to witness her punishing herself… 

His voice cut through her thoughts once more, and though he spoke of flagellation, the context of his words, the tone he used told Zelda he meant to use the act sexually. Once she realized what he meant, that he wasn’t rejecting her, that he still wanted her, some of the terror dissipated, but she still paused. Unsure if she could involve what she’d so long ago associated with punishment with a scenario meant for pleasure. 

And she knew Faustus meant for them both to enjoy the experience, a little pain had always enhanced the pleasure—at least with them. So, he just wanted to up the game… it wasn’t unheard of, using whips and other toys during sex. Zelda herself had a wide variety of tastes and was certainly adventurous in the bedroom… but she had her limits, and this felt like one. 

“How does that sound?” Faustus asked, undoing the cuffs of his shirt and lifting a brow. 

Without responding, Zelda moved to lock the door despite the fear spiking through her. When she hesitated still, Faustus swept up behind her, pressing the length of his body against hers and she could faintly feel his increasing arousal—he likely thought she was being coy by not answering, returning his earlier aloofness with some of her own. So, he repeated his question. 

Her attention wasn’t fully on his words though, it was on how his hands wandered down from her rib cage to her hips, how he nosed aside her hair and pressed heated kisses along her neck—pausing at the junction where her neck met her shoulder to sink his teeth in. 

His actions had her all but moaning her agreement, that the situation sounded entirely appropriate. Despite her reluctance for the lashes themselves, she dearly wanted what would follow. She was being selfish; this wasn’t at all about saving face with the church or keeping her family safe. The confession alone would have been enough to accomplish these tasks. 

Everything after it, this, this was selfish, this was for her. And she craved it. Craved the contact, the closeness with someone—anyone really—but especially Faustus… so she started to undress as well. Once they were both down to their underwear, a quiet spell enlarged the bed and Faustus took up his position on the bed; palms flat on the mattress, back slightly hunched and head bowed. 

Fiddling with the whip, Zelda came to stand behind him. She was supposed to flagellate him first, but as she raised her hand, she realized she couldn’t do it. Not even to get the physical intimacy she’d been so starved for in recent years. 

It was hard enough to do it to herself, but to someone else? Even if he was willing? No, Zelda couldn’t. Faustus noticed her tentativeness and glanced at her over his shoulder. 

To try and cover her reluctance, Zelda trailed the end of the whip lightly up his spine, making him shiver, before pressing herself against his back and nipping at his ear lobe. “How about,” she nipped again, this time at his neck, “you go first?” 

Faustus’ brow furrowed for a moment, but he nodded, and they switched spots. Zelda braced herself on the bed, hands gripping the comforter in tense anticipation. If she was lucky, he wouldn’t be able to wait after whipping her and would want to move immediately into sex; meaning she’d be off the hook for flagellating him in return. 

As for the lashes themselves… well, what were thirty lashes to her? She’d moved past that number a long time ago. It was also unlikely Faustus would strike her with the brutal blows she was accustomed to dealing herself. So, this might not be so bad, this might be enjoyable…. She’d just convinced herself that the experience wouldn’t be horrible when she heard a deep sigh behind her. 

Turning to look over her shoulder, Zelda was surprised to find him playing with the end of the whip uncertainly. “Faustus?” 

Running his tongue over his teeth, Faustus heaved another sigh. “I can’t.” He shrugged a little. “I know this is a taste you’ve acquired since we parted so many years ago, and I thought I could partake. But this seems like too much pain, it would overshadow the pleasure. I won’t hurt you.” He lifted a brow then, as if to ask her where this left them, but his comment had her baffled. 

“A taste **I’ve** acquired?” She repeated, shifting slightly to see him better. “ **You’re** the one who suggested it.” 

“Only because I thought you’d enjoy it.” He held up the flog, “and I thought the role play, high priest and parishioner, would make it more fun for you…” He trailed off, clearly as confused as she was now. 

Shaking her head, Zelda stared at him. “Role play? Why would I want—” 

Faustus threw up his hands, “because I saw—” And then he froze, as something dawned on him. “Those, those aren’t from pleasure.” He whispered. 

The comment clarified nothing for Zelda, “what are you talking about, Faustus?” 

Dropping the whip, Faustus joined her on the bed and carefully turned her so that he could see her back. His hands coming up to trace along the faded scars of past punishments long past and the pink ones of recent punishments. “Oh, Zels…” He breathed, “what have you been doing to yourself?” 

His quiet tone, the gentleness of his hands, it was all too much. She’d never intended for anyone to find out, let alone Faustus. And even if he had, Zelda never would have expected him to react in this way, to care—it was an approved form of penance in the eyes of the church, after all. 

But when had he seen her scars to even infer they’d come from new sexual proclivities? She stiffened then, realizing then that the night before, when he’d been peppering her shoulders and back with kisses before leaving, that was when he’d seen the marks and assumed. He’d, he’d been kissing her scars. 

Tears pricked her eyes at the thought, but Zelda didn’t want to confront this, not here and certainly not with him. So, instead, she spun to face him completely and lurched forward to kiss him hard. One hand gripped the back of his neck to pull him down on top of her while the other slid down his chest and then lower still. 

She nipped and scratched and tried to regain her footing by falling back into their usual lust fueled pattern of slightly rough and hurried sex. But Faustus refused to be tricked into it. Instead, he was gentler with her than he’d ever been; his exploring hands firm but not bruising and his mouth insistent but not domineering. As though he wanted her to know that he knew she wouldn’t break, but that didn’t mean he needed to try and test the limit. 

A shuddering exhale escaped her at the implication; that he might understand her even better than she believed. But she couldn’t think of that, it would only cause trouble, so she managed a ragged, “please, Faustus,” before dragging them both further into desire. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

When they finished, she’d moved to get out of bed immediately. The intimacy she’d so craved was overwhelming now that she’d received it. Faustus, though, had other ideas and wrapped and arm around her waist and pulled her against him, kissing her back and shoulders once more. 

“Faustus,” she murmured, and she hated how weak she sounded. “I think you should go. The others could be home any—” 

His hold on her only tightened further. “Zelda,” he whispered, “don’t—” 

Unable to hear how he would finish that sentence though, Zelda cut him off. “You need to leave.” Her voice wobbled, undermining her statement. 

Sighing, Faustus rested his forehead on her shoulder. “Will you at least promise me something?” He asked, his arm not loosening one bit. 

“Faustus,” she warned. 

“Promise me something and I will leave.” He offered, and Zelda knew it was a trap, but it was the out she needed before feelings that had been dormant for so long did more than stir. 

Warily, Zelda nodded. “What?” 

Pulling back slightly, Faustus pressed another kiss to the scars crisscrossing her back. “The next time you feel compelled to do this,” his lips traced along the marks again and she shivered, “contact me instead. Phone, astral project, show up in my office, in my house, at the church, whatever means necessary.” 

She broke free of his embrace then and stood, pulling her robe on. “And if I refuse?” 

Why? Why was she fighting him? He wanted to help, he was the first person to know—and only person if she had anything to say about it—why was she pushing him away? Maybe because some old habits died harder than others. 

“Zels,” Faustus murmured softly, sitting up and reaching for her. But Zelda remained obstinately a step too far, her arms crossed forebodingly. Rubbing his forehead, Faustus looked at her a little helplessly. “Then I just may feel the need to speak with Hilda.” 

The comment might as well have been a slap. “So, it’s blackmail now, that’s what we’ve come to?” She glowered at him, lips twisting. 

“Zelda, that isn’t what—” 

But she interrupted him, “just know that is a two-way street, Faustus Blackwood, and I know a _good deal_ about you that I’m _sure_ others would be interested in hearing.” 

He stood angrily then, throwing the blanket back and gathering his clothes. “I’m trying to help,” he spat, jerkily pulling on his pants and then his shirt without doing the buttons. “I don’t want you hurting yourself. I don’t know what made you start, but I want to help you see that you don’t need—” 

Anger flashed through her as well, “don’t tell me what I do and don’t need, Faustus.” She countered, sneering at him. This, anger was so much better than whatever else she’d been feeling moments ago. Anger she was comfortable with, anger she knew, was acceptable. 

But Faustus apparently couldn’t let things lie. Because he closed the distance between them in a few strides, shirt hanging open, and captured her lips in a possessive kiss. “Well, maybe I need you,” he stated frankly, taking her aback. “Maybe I need you to be safe,” he kissed her neck then, “and healthy.” Faustus kissed her shoulder, his hands holding her tightly against him. “Maybe I need you, Zels.” He repeated, sealing his mouth over hers once more, and it felt as though he were trying to pour something more into the kiss… Zelda was just too scared to interpret it. 

When they broke, Zelda shook her head. This was already crossing the line from a carnal relationship to something else… and she wasn’t sure she could break it off again if that was the case. So, it was best to head it all off now, she never should have tried to have something for herself in the first place. 

“Faustus, I—” 

“Tell me,” he growled, resting his forehead against hers. “Tell me now swear to Satan, that this isn’t what you want. That it means nothing to you. Convince me you want nothing to do with me, Spellman, and I am gone.” He hadn’t called her by her surname since their academy days, and the blast of nostalgia only caused more stirrings in those not so dormant feelings. “Tell me and I will not darken your door again and you can whip yourself to death if you please.” Despite his words, his hands tightened where they were gripping her hips. “Tell me you want nothing from me.” 

Zelda’s mind leapt to all kinds of scenarios in which he was tricking her. The Dark Lord having found her out somehow and sent Faustus to suss out the details. Or perhaps he trying to get back at her for how much trouble her family was causing. 

Surely it had to be something. Why else restart this? Why else fan a flame that should have been dead for years now? But she couldn’t place all of the blame on him, it took two to tango, as the saying went, and she’d been the one to initiate the dance. 

So, even though it would have been smarter, better, to parrot those words back at him, that she wanted nothing from him. She couldn’t. 

Not when he’d been the first person she’d felt she could talk to about her failures and still be accepted (she refused to tell her family and Abigail would only try and brush away her concern and bolster her; which wasn’t necessarily bad, but it wasn’t what Zelda needed). Not when he was holding her tightly, almost reverently. 

“Faustus,” she whispered, a tear streaking down her cheek as she pressed her lips together. 

He ground his teeth, “tell me. Yes or no, Zelda.” 

“Yes. I want—” The words left her before she could stop them and Faustus’ lips were on hers to keep her from taking it back. This kiss was greedy, possessive and it thrilled her. And when he tugged the tie on her robe and pushed it off her shoulders before lifting her back onto the bed, well, Zelda couldn’t find it in her to regret what she’d said. 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

Faustus teleported away from the bedroom, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that he’d been in the Spellman house far longer than he should have been. Zelda cleaned herself up before heading down to the kitchen in search of food; she was famished. 

When she got there, though, Ambrose was sitting at the table with an unopened bottle of champagne in front of him, looking troubled. 

“Ambrose,” she exclaimed, suddenly guilty for not thinking of his outcome earlier. “What happened? With your sentence?” It had to be good, why else the champagne… 

Her nephew didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Partially, yes, but you’d have known that an hour ago had you not been locked in your bedroom with the high priest.” 

His tone stunned her. “What I do in my bedroom and with whom is no concern of yours.” She replied haughtily, the joy at the news of his loosened sentence evaporating. Out of everyone in the family she’d thought Ambrose would be the least critical of her—at least in this aspect. 

“It is my concern when you feel you have to sell yourself to help me.” His voice cracked and tears welled in his eyes, though he still refused to look fully at her. “I know I’ve been rather melancholy lately. And I’ve made no effort to hide it, you and Aunt Hilda always let Sabrina and I feel so freely. I never thought, never imagined it would affect you to the point you’d try and help me feel better, by getting my sentence lifted. That you’d make that happen by paying for it, with your, your body.” The tears spilled over now and Ambrose buried his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry, Auntie Zee. I _never_ meant—” 

Rushing over to him, Zelda smacked her hand on the table to get his attention. “You stop that nonsense, immediately.” She demanded, face flushed, but she refused to let Ambrose believe she’d sell herself like a common whore. 

Though a small voice in the back of her head told her if it came down to it, if it was that or let something bad happen to her family… Zelda would certainly do just that. But this certainly wasn’t that kind of situation. “Your new freedom was won by you and you alone.” She informed him firmly, taking Ambrose’s chin in her hand and forcing him to look at her. “Do you understand me?” 

He blinked and swallowed hard. “But, last night, I came down to ask your advice about the deal then, only I heard you and Father Blackwood…” Zelda froze, the thump they’d heard last night, the one that had interrupted them. She’d known it’d been Ambrose; she just hadn’t thought it was because he’d caught them. “I didn’t think much of it; you deserve to have some fun. Satan knows you need some kind of outlet after everything that’s happened. But then today, after Father Blackwood lessened my sentence, promised to help me lift it completely. I went to find you right away; I was so excited to share, and I heard again…” He trailed off, expression tortured. 

Sighing, Zelda sat next to him. Normally, she’d never share her sexual escapades with Ambrose, but this was a unique circumstance. “You know full well, Faustus and I have a history. And it goes back even further than you’re aware. We’ve just rekindled it, that’s all.” She smiled softly at him. “It has nothing to do with you. As if I’d sleep with someone just to reduce your sentence,” she scoffed playfully, and he smiled. 

“I’m sorry, auntie, I just didn’t know what to think and I had to make it right if the worst were true.” He rubbed the back of his neck a little sheepishly. 

Zelda kissed his forehead and chuckled. “I love you, my dear felon, but not that much.” She teased, pulling away and conjuring up some champagne glasses before popping the cork of the bottle with another wave of her hand. 

Laughing fully, Ambrose stood and hugged her hard. “I love you too, auntie, sorry for the, the uh, misunderstanding.” His embrace tightened minutely before he released her and sat back down, face exuberant now that he knew his freedom had been his own doing. 

Clapping her hands together, Zelda beamed. “Good, now, let’s celebrate.” She poured them each a healthy measure. “I know Hilda is at the store, we can celebrate again when she gets home tonight. But where is your cousin? I’ve hardly seen Sabrina since the funeral yesterday.” 

Ambrose dropped his gaze once more and shifted slightly. “Spending time with Harvey, I think.” 

She eyed him for a moment, unsure why he was acting a little oddly. Perhaps because she’d made her thoughts on the mortal boy rather clear and after their conversation, he didn’t want to upset her by bringing up the mine incident again. 

No matter, this would blow over as all mortal things did and her family would soon forget the entire thing; it’s what witches did best if they wanted to remain sane while mingling with mortals. Until then, until then they’d celebrate what happiness they could. 

And right now, Zelda lifted her glass and clinked it against Ambrose’s, there was a good deal to celebrate; her nephew was happy and discussing how he'd negotiated his freedom. Smiling, Zelda decided to focus on that, that and her time with Faustus... yes, perhaps things were starting to look up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter focused more on Ambrose and Zelda, but I think the aunties relationship with him is underdeveloped (though we got some wonderful Hilda/Ambrose scenes in part 2). I just wanted to focus a little on Zelda’s relationship with others this chapter… that and I couldn’t think of how to naturally fit more Zelda-Sabrina scenes in this chapter. Anyway, hope you enjoyed!


	18. Chapter 18

She and Ambrose spent most of the afternoon celebrating. Drinking, ordering in food, and laughing over old memories. It was one of the most care-free days Zelda had had in ages, and she couldn’t be more thankful for it—perhaps things were turning around. 

This thought was only further validated when, a few hours later, Faustus sent her a message via witching board, asking her if she would meet with him. For more ‘Satanic confessions’ he added at the end, and Zelda could practically see him winking at her. Of course, he was trying to make light of the blunder from earlier while also referencing how their first ‘Satanic confession’ ended; he was trying to turn it into something of an inside joke and it warmed Zelda in a way she refused to voice. 

She knew she shouldn’t be so eager to see Faustus again; it’d _only_ been a few hours. Maybe Zelda could blame the champagne, for this light and bubbly feeling that had her gravitating back to Faustus so easily. Or maybe she could blame how tightly Faustus had held her, how fiercely he’d kissed her, how he’d said he needed her, how he’d offered to help as he delicately traced her scars. 

Whatever was to blame, Zelda found herself replying, after waiting an appropriate amount of time—no need to appear desperate, that she supposed she could rearrange her schedule to accommodate a meeting with him... again. When she set the board down and caught sight of her reflection in a mirror, Zelda was shocked to see a wide smile on her face. 

Clearing her throat and schooling her face, Zelda went and told Ambrose that she planned on being gone for several hours. Her nephew just gave her a teasing wink before bounding up the stairs to call Luke and share the good news about his sentence. 

Pleased she had at least one family member’s approval, not that Zelda planned on telling anyone else, she made her way upstairs to freshen up. Once done, Zelda pulled a coat on over her dress and teleported herself to the church, finding Faustus already there and leaning casually against the stone wall. 

“Zels,” he murmured, forgoing any formality and kissing her chastely. “I thought we might want a more private location for our future confessionals.” Faustus grinned wickedly at her and pressed his hand on the small of her back as he led her into the church. 

Glancing around skeptically, Zelda raised an eyebrow at him. “This hardly seems like a ‘private’ space, Faustus, any coven member could walk in and interrupt.” While Zelda didn’t necessarily mind voyeurism, she preferred to keep _this_ particular dalliance a secret. 

A low chuckle escaped Faustus and he pressed closer into her side as they wound their way through the church. “As much as I’d love to fuck you on the pulpit, Zelda,” his nails bit into her hip at the statement, “I was thinking, we’d try something else.” Faustus stopped in front of a door and held it open for her. 

Zelda peered down the stairs and mentally shrugged, well, it was better than possibly being interrupted by her family or some student should they attempt the academy. Faustus trailed after her, locking the door behind them. 

When they reached the bottom, Zelda barely had a chance to take in the dark, rather dingy cellar they’d ended up in, before Faustus was on her, pressing her into the cot he’d likely conjured there right before she arrived. 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

She should be more cautious. Shouldn’t allow herself to be pulled in, to lose herself in this, in him; it would only make it more painful when it all fell apart. When it was somehow revealed that he’d been using her the whole time. 

But, as she was getting dressed, Zelda couldn’t help but think how even if he was using her for some ulterior motive, she didn’t mind. With everything going on recently, it was an unholy blessing to be able to escape and not be Zelda the Spellman matriarch but just be Zelda the witch; even if just for a few hours. And, oh, how Faustus found glorious ways to fill those hours. 

It was likely a mistake, letting him back in, but Zelda didn’t want to stop the game they just started to play again—not when they were both so good at it. So, though it went against the anxious and paranoid part of her brain that had been reigning her life for so long, Zelda smiled as she finished up the buttons of her jacket and turned a playful smile Faustus’ way. 

“If I’d known this style of Satanic confession was an option for Church of Night members, I’d have taken it up years ago.” She inhaled deeply, her flesh still tingling slightly from the last few hours. “I feel positively reborn in fire.” 

Faustus’ head snapped to her when she mentioned starting this earlier, though he quickly hid his face behind a towel, wiping the sheen of sweat away. He then bent and picked up a piece of the cot that had broken off at some point during their activities and wiped it down, it had likely gotten wet from the cellar floor. “Yes. Penance of the flesh is the purest form of worship. It offers us both punishment and pleasure.” He looked up and eyed her neck where moments before a lovely bite mark had adorned her skin—evidence of the ‘punishment’. 

Zelda smirked and picked up one of the candles scattered around the room to light a cigarette, taking a deep draw before she turned to face Faustus completely. “Though I do wish we could meet someplace less… damp.” She remarked, eyeing the piece of cot in his hand that he was still drying off. 

He gave her an apologetic look, “unfortunately, we must keep our ‘devotions’… secret.” Faustus set the broken cot piece aside and pulled his suspenders on. The motion was distracting and had Zelda picturing pulling him close again using said suspenders to go another round… but it was already late, and she needed to get home before someone suspected anything. She was so caught up in her mini fantasy and thoughts she almost missed Faustus’ next words. “I miss the old days. When all witches were polyamorous, and monogamy was just for mortals. One of the false god’s puritanical edicts.” 

The words sliced through her a bit. Where before she would have been thrilled to have a ‘liberated’ relationship with him, because it would have meant nothing serious, now her heart sank. Zelda had thought after this morning… after he’d been so gentle with her, had whispered such kind words that there might be something more to this than sex. 

But she’d had her chance at monogamy with Faustus, a decade ago when he suggested marriage and she’d spurned him, ran away to protect her family. Zelda knew she’d missed her only opportunity for _that_ kind of relationship, but somehow, her mouth still formed words to the contrary. “I don’t know, there is something to be said about having a _single_ partner with whom you explore all the realms of agony and ecstasy.” His eyes are round when he looked up at her and Zelda made a show of smoothing her dress before bringing her eyes back up to his—by then his expression is more guarded, as though he’d realized his studying look startled her, however, a tender smile was still on his lips. 

Faustus had slowly looked up from where he’d been buttoning his vest, heart pounding at what Zelda said. Though he’d just praised liberated flings and polyamory, he’d only been doing that so he wouldn’t scare Zelda away again. He’d only just gotten her back; he wasn’t going to ruin it by revealing that what he felt very likely ran much deeper than lust. 

And now, now she was hinting that perhaps monogamy wasn’t too awful. He couldn’t be sure how serious she was, she’d said the comment rather flippantly, as though not to overplay her hand as she’d unnecessarily run her hands over her dress, checking for wrinkles. But Faustus was almost positive there’d been a gleam in her eye and a hopeful upward tug of the corner of her mouth at the suggestion of monogamy—with the right partner, of course. Perhaps he wasn’t alone in these blasphemous feelings after all. 

Besides, polyamory was for warlocks who weren’t satisfied, who’s needs weren’t being met. And Zelda Spellman had _never_ left him unsatisfied. She challenged him on intellectual, spiritual, and physical levels. Left him guessing, left him wanting more of her in every capacity. And, looking back on their interaction later, Faustus thought that this might be what prompted him to make his next offer. 

Looking at her softly, Faustus fiddled with the last button on his vest. “Zelda, as you know, nothing is more important to me than the birth of my twin sons.” She smiled at the mention of the boys and this only spurred Faustus on further. “Yet, more and more, I worry Lady Blackwood is not the mother they need.” 

Zelda furrowed her brow, given how frantic Constance had been of late, her rash decision with the Feast of Feasts and how she refused to let Zelda treat her third-trimester hysteria, she could hardly blame Faustus for being concerned about the well-being of his children once they were born. But his next words stunned her, nonetheless. 

“Would you consider being an unholy godmother to them?” 

Her mouth opened slightly in surprise; she’d have thought her failures with Sabrina would exclude her from any such offers. But Faustus was still gazing at her with _that_ look and how could she refuse? 

“Yes,” she murmured softly, “I would be honored to be your boys’ Night Mother.” She tipped her chin up and a proud smile crept across her face and Faustus wanted to kiss her. Kiss her for saying yes, kiss her and tell her that it pained him that she wasn’t the biological mother to his children and only their Night Mother. 

But he restrained himself, knowing that would likely send her running. Instead, Faustus grabbed his coat from where it hung on the wall, taking the chance to rearrange his expression into something more neutral. Turning back around, he continued, impressed with the steadiness of his voice given his excitement. “There is also the matter of Lady Blackwood’s classes at the academy, she tires easily these days. And I can hardly permit her to be around Prudence and her sisters; not after she attempted to kill one of them. Throwing them all into the same room on a near daily basis is asking for homicide, though who would make it out alive,” Faustus shrugged, unsure who would come out on top. But he refused to risk his children by having Constance interact with the weird sisters regularly—a hysterical pregnant woman and three vengeful teenage witches were not a good combination. “Would you take them over? Be the Satanic Choir’s interim director?” 

Zelda didn’t respond at first. His reasoning was sound for replacing Constance at the academy, she just never imagined he’d pick her. “Faustus, I—” 

“Have the loveliest signing voice I’ve ever heard.” He cut in, stepping closing to her. “I only wish you’d taken up the position years ago. But I know the choir would thrive under your tutelage.” A broad smile stole across her face before she could stop it and Faustus closed the space between them even further. “Is that a yes?” He questioned softly, one of his hands coming to rest on her hip—and oh, if they started this again she’d be here til witching hour. 

Nodding, Zelda couldn’t rid herself of the ridiculous smile on her face. This job offered so many things. It would help restore her position within the church, it would get her out of that damned mortuary, praise Satan, and… a traitorous little voice piped up in the back of her mind, it would allow her to spend more time in close proximity to the man now placing lingering kisses on her neck. 

So, she agreed. For reasons that would protect her family and for selfish reasons as well. But how often in recent years had her desires aligned with what was needed to protect her family? Not often at all, so who could really blame her for accepting? 

~~~~~~~~~ 

The next morning at breakfast Hilda threw her questioning looks, likely because she hadn’t teleported back to their room until well after midnight. But her sister didn’t ask anything outright, Sabrina and Ambrose were at the table as well which afforded her a certain level of protection from her sister’s nosiness. 

When Hilda hung up the phone and announced the bodies of the miners had been recovered and would be arriving later that day, Zelda turned the page of her newspaper. “And Satan willing, they’ll bring some closure to those young men’s families.” She knew how difficult it was to move on from a death when there wasn’t closure. The thought reminded her of the disastrous funeral the other day. Lowering her paper, Zelda turned to her niece. “By the way, Sabrina, how is Harvey coping with it all?” She normally wouldn’t ask after the mortal boy, but Zelda found she could relate to him on a slightly irritating level. And, well, she wanted to hear if there’d been any more altercations with that abhorrent man Harvey was forced to call a father. Because if she found out that repulsive man had harmed the boy… well, she just might be willing to interfere with mortal affairs again. 

“He’s hanging in there.” Sabrina replied a little vaguely before turning to Hilda and asking when the bodies were arriving. 

Zelda furrowed her brow at the pitch of her niece’s voice, but it was possible she was just worried about Harvey having to come and claim his brother’s body. As much as Zelda had wanted the closure that burying Edward’s body would have provided, she was also somewhat thankful she’d never had to have that version of her brother in her mind—though her night terrors often were creative enough, at least with those Zelda could brush them off as figments of imagination and not the real thing. 

When Ambrose insisted on handling the bodies after she received them, Zelda saw no reason to argue, she honestly hated dealing with the bodies. Besides, she had plans later. “The high priest has appointed me Directrix of the Satanic Choir.” She announced to her family happily. 

Hilda cooed, “oh, when did he do that?” 

Lifting her paper back up, Zelda muttered, “never you mind, Hilda.” And though Ambrose pressed his lips together to hide a smile, Zelda knew he would keep her secret for her. There was so little she got to have to herself, and Zelda didn’t want to tell Hilda about Faustus, not yet. Especially since she wasn’t sure what Hilda would do, she was odd when it came to him—equally supportive and cautious. So, Zelda made some quips about Hilda’s job—knowing it was meanspirited and uncalled for but also the best way to discourage Hilda from probing further. 

They were all doing their part to restore the Spellman name, and perhaps that would take some of the attention off their family. If they could prove they were all good witches and warlocks maybe Zelda wouldn’t need to worry about the Dark Lord or the coven coming for them. Maybe she could focus on the good, the good that seemed to be piling up in front of her recently. 

“Good things are coming. I can feel it in my bones.” She informed them, still smiling, and for the first time in a while, things were truly looking up. She had a new position at the academy—so much more entertaining than the mortuary business, she and Sabrina were closer than ever after the exorcism and Feast of Feasts, and then there was the business with Faustus. So, though she’d never been one for optimism, life showing her again and again that it was cruel, Zelda chose to believe, this time, that good things were coming. 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The rest of the morning was uneventful, Zelda received the bodies of the miners, relocated them to the basement and then made her way to the academy. Faustus greeted her politely, and led her to her classroom, his hand firm on her back—though it was positioned much higher than usual. 

“Here it is,” he announced, opening the door and ushering her inside. 

Zelda inhaled deeply, a content smile curling her lips. “It’s lovely, Faustus.” She murmured, taking in the pews and stage. 

He walked a step behind her as she made her way further into the room. “We changed the location, choir was once held in room 66, but it appears as though the former teacher placed some kind of curse on the room so it expels certain students and faculty members.” Faustus cleared his throat and shrugged when Zelda looked at him over her shoulder, brow lifted in amusement. 

“Well, it makes more sense to practice in the theater anyway. The students will get a better handle on the acoustics and won’t have to alter anything during performances.” She supplied diplomatically, though Zelda couldn’t help but wonder if she’d have been repelled from the old room as well or if only Faustus and the weird sisters were unable to enter. 

Before he could reply, students started to filter in. Faustus came and stood next to her and once the students had taken their places, he introduced her. “As you are all aware, Lady Blackwood is on leave for the remainder of her pregnancy. Professor Spellman will be taking over as interim director of the Satanic choir.” 

Zelda noticed several of the students exchanging relieved looks and wondered how long some of them had been waiting for this. Given that the last time she’d seen Constance, the hysteria full blown and paranoia controlling the woman’s every interaction, Zelda could easily assume the students weren’t surprised by the change in staff. 

“I will be back towards the end of class to check on your progress.” Faustus lifted a brow and then left. 

The rest of the class passed by with little fanfare, Zelda had each student sight read a small piece, just to verify they were in the right section before getting into more complicated material. No one gave her trouble, either because she gave off the vibe that nonsense wouldn’t be tolerated or because Prudence and her sisters usually led the pack in terms of disruption and they were behaving, Zelda wasn’t sure. But she didn’t question it. 

Nearly 45 minutes later, Faustus slipped back in and Zelda directed the students to sing a song that would showcase each of their abilities best—it was merely a bonus that it was from a mortal movie where a nun abandoned the false god to pursue her own desires. 

When she glanced at Faustus, he seemed impressed and gifted her with a small smile. Before the song could finish, though, one of her students screamed and pointed behind them. Agatha had stumbled into the room, her nightgown covered in the front with what appeared to be dirt. 

The poor girl uttered a “help me,” before collapsing to the ground. Zelda quickly dismissed most of the students, allowing Prudence, Dorcas and Nicholas to stay behind, knowing they were the ones most likely to have an answer for what happened. 

Faustus turned to them, face hard. “How did Agatha end up a living cadaver? Tell me _everything_. **At once!** ” He added when the children shot furtive looks at one another. 

As they explained, Zelda’s surroundings spun so dangerously she was surprised to find herself still standing when she finally comprehended what they were saying. Sabrina had performed a resurrection to bring back the Kinkle boy… how could she? 

Though Zelda wanted to deny it, the dying witch in front of her, coupled with the word of three other witches, was evidence enough of her niece’s grievous actions. She’d raised Sabrina better than this, better than to meddle with the darkest of arts—ones not even she had touched. Even Ambrose in his most rebellious phase had only played with reanimating animals. 

Turning to Faustus, Zelda clenched her hands. “Your Excellency, I knew nothing of this, _I swear it_.” If she had she would’ve done anything to stop it. It was becoming increasingly difficult to protect Sabrina when she _insisted_ on dabbling and interfering in matters she had no business with. “But I can—” 

“You can what?” He cut her off, “control Sabrina? Punish her? No. You’ve proven time and again that you cannot.” His anger was justified, and well placed. A young witch was dying before them, one of their students. And it was because of Sabrina…. Because of Zelda, her and her inability to control her niece’s dangerous whims. 

Zelda knew Faustus was right, and as he instructed the girls to take Agatha to the infirmary, Zelda also knew she’d failed again. Her conviction to say no to Sabrina, to not make the same mistakes she did with Edward had been for nothing. Her attempts at reintegrating herself with the church, often at the cost of her relationships with her family, just so she could protect them… had been for nothing. 

As Faustus started to stalk away, intending to deal with the resurrected Kinkle boy, Zelda rushed after him, placing a hand on his arm to stop him. “Please, Father, allow me.” She used his title, not only because the students were still within hearing range, but also to show him she was at his mercy. “Sabrina is **my** niece, **my** responsibility. Her transgression is **mine**. Whatever she did, I _will_ undo.” She pled, desperately, not wanting him more in the middle of this than he already was. “Give me a chance to make things right. _I will not fail you again_.” 

Her words were directed at Faustus, but she also meant Sabrina. Somehow, she had managed to fail her niece once more—by being oblivious to her plans. How could she not have anticipated this from Sabrina? 

Faustus eyed her, as if trying to determine if this was something he could let be handled by someone else or if the Dark Lord would come for him for not dealing with it personally. “Do it, then.” He ground out. 

Exhaling unsteadily, Zelda breathed a “thank you,” before hurrying away, praying to Satan she could do all she claimed. Otherwise… it would be the death of them all. 

Once out of sight, Zelda teleported home, shouting for her family. Only Hilda and Ambrose answered her call, both looking rather shaken. And Zelda knew, right then, that they were aware of what was happening. 

“Someone better explain this to me, **now.** ” She growled, already pacing the foyer, the lights along the wall flickering from her poorly restrained fear and anger. 

Ambrose glanced at Hilda and then indicated that she should follow him to the basement. Livid, Zelda marched down the steps, Hilda immediately behind her. 

“We told her not to,” Ambrose started, watching her warily. “But Sabrina was adamant, I didn’t think she’d be able to do it. Not without a Book of the Dead.” He twisted his hands, “so I didn’t think it was something to worry you two about. I told her there was a balance, that she couldn’t just bring Tommy back. I thought that was the end of it. But then, I came across her, Prudence, Dorcas and Nick out in the garden, messing with the Cain pit. They’d performed the ritual, sacrificed Agatha and were going to bring her back.” 

As Ambrose explained further, showing her the marks on the corpses and Hilda piping in when she came into the story, having found out much later about the incident. Zelda’s insides churned, this was _far_ worse than anything she could have imagined Sabrina doing. 

Running her tongue over her teeth, Zelda rounded on Ambrose. “Swear to me, swear to me you didn’t give her that book.” She knew she must look a bit wild, because Ambrose took an involuntary step back and shook his head vigorously. 

“No, Auntie, I swear. I know the consequences, I tried to tell Sabrina of them. I don’t even own that book.” He looked at her imploringly, begging her to believe him. And Zelda could sense he was telling the truth, but if that were the case, where had Sabrina gotten it? Zelda spun on her heel and strode upstairs, the other two scurrying after her. 

“Zelds?” Hilda asked, when they reached the foyer and she continued up the stairs to the upper level. “What are you doing?” 

Without turning, Zelda spat out. “I’m going to search Sabrina’s room for that cursed book.” Before she reached the final landing, though, the wards went off, alerting her that Sabrina was coming home. Taking several deep breathes, Zelda turned and found Hilda sitting at the bottom of the steps and Ambrose off to the side. 

Of course, of course they were going to let her be the one to confront Sabrina about this. Maybe it was because she was the last to know and therefore still had to say her piece. But part of Zelda knew it was because they were used to her being the bad guy. Just as well, anger was boiling up inside her. 

Just then, Sabrina came through the door, calling for them. “Aunties? Are you here, I need—” 

Gripping the banister tightly, Zelda interrupted her. “I frankly don’t care what you need, Sabrina. But I’ll tell you what I need. An explanation. For why a Spellman was practicing _necromancy on a mortal boy_ in Greendale.” 

When Sabrina looked to Hilda for help, her sister shook her head minutely. “She knows everything, love.” 

“And why, in Satan’s name, she would drag other witches into her _reckless, stupid, selfish_ plans.” Zelda waited for an answer, one that Sabrina readily supplied. 

She did it for Harvey. Beelzebub grant her the strength no to end this child she raised and loved. All of this for a mortal boy—and so history repeats—like father, like daughter…. Risking it all for a mortal and not caring what collateral damage was caused in the process. 

“How did you even know what spell to use?” She demanded, “Ambrose says he didn’t give it to you.” Zelda added, starting to descend the stairs. 

“I didn’t.” He verified solemnly, not quite meeting anyone’s eye. 

Sabrina paused for a bit, then made eye contact with Zelda once more. “Ms. Wardwell.” 

Zelda barely refrained from tearing her hair out. She’d known that witch was no good when she encouraged an exorcism. But she’d kept her distance after learning she was the Dark Lord’s minion, she’d needed to come up with a game plan, but now, now Wardwell had assisted Sabrina in a resurrection?! “ _She_ gave it to you?” Her voice dropped to a dangerously low volume as she slowly continued her descent, white knuckling the railing as she went to try and contain herself. She would end that bitch—would make an exception to her witches don’t kill witches rule, it no longer mattered how close to the Dark Lord the woman was… Zelda would kill her for dragging Sabrina into this. 

“No. No, I… I took a book from her office.” Sabrina interrupted Zelda’s thoughts. 

Looking up to the ceiling for patience, anything really, Zelda took a few more steps. “Oh, so you’re a thief, as well as a murderer.” Lovely, just the cherry on top of everything. 

But Sabrina just looked at her in confusion, “murderer?” 

Zelda brought her gaze back down and stared at Sabrina. “You _killed_ a witch, didn’t you?” Slit her throat without hesitation or flinching from how Prudence told it… the idea made Zelda nauseous. 

“Just for a few minutes.” Sabrina muttered petulantly. 

The words shocked Zelda. “This is **not a joke** , Sabrina!” She was shouting now, panic bubbling inside her. “You’ve thrown off the balance.” 

And still, _still_ Sabrina argued, refusing to see the reality of the situation, claiming she could rectify it all. “Fix what?” Zelda demanded. “There’s _nothing_ to fix and he **can’t** be saved.” How could her niece not understand the gravity of her actions? Simply because things miraculously worked out in the past did not mean they would work out now. “It’s done, Sabrina. He belongs in the ground and that’s where he’s going.” Zelda informed Sabrina, making her way down the last few steps. 

She’d told Faustus she could handle this, and she would—as much as she disliked the idea the mortal boy was dead already. It wasn’t as if she would be truly killing him. What Sabrina declared next floored her. Mortal limbo? 

“If you what?” She whispered, horrified. 

Sabrina went on to discuss needing to be anchored to the plane but the ringing that started in Zelda’s ears made it slightly difficult to focus. Shaking her head to clear it, Zelda clenched her hands. 

“Sabrina… I have just spent the very **last** of my credibility with the high priest… begging. _Begging_ him to let us clean up **your** mess, to take care of this **atrocity** ourselves, to save _our family_ in the eyes of the coven.” Her hand came up and pressed against her stomach hard, trying to calm the roiling and nausea. “ _We’re standing in a grave, young lady, **all of us** , and you want to dig it deeper!?_” 

But Sabrina’s face scrunched in anger. “I don’t **care** about the high priest, Aunt Zee. I care about what’s right. And about Harvey. And his brother.” 

Zelda wanted to scream at Sabrina that she _had_ to care about the high priest, he held their lives in his hands. That despite her history with the man he was sure to do what was necessary for his own preservation and the preservation of his family when the Dark Lord came for retribution. And if that meant throwing the Spellman family into the flames, Faustus would do it. And Zelda wouldn’t blame him for it either, because she’d do the same in a heartbeat if the situation were reversed. 

She had done everything she could for years, **years** to ensure their safety from the church and the Dark Lord and Sabrina had knocked it all down in a matter of _weeks_ after her rejected dark baptism. Zelda had given everything and it still hadn’t been enough, because her niece had to meddle, to interfere, to break every witch law at every turn. 

Surely, life couldn’t continue like this. It would break her for sure… cleaning up these messes. But before she broke, she had to fix this one last thing. So, she tried to convince Sabrina another way, explaining to her that she didn’t have the magical capacity necessary to cross the barrier. She was only sixteen, after all, not some Grand Magus. 

While her girl was strong, Sabrina hadn’t even been able to perform an exorcism by herself. There was no possibility of her opening a portal to mortal limbo. In time, Zelda knew Sabrina would be a powerful witch, _after_ she’d finished at the academy, gotten a few decades under her belt. Her niece’s power would likely rival her own, and Zelda took pride in that. But now, oh now Sabrina’s overinflated sense of power was going to kill them all. 

The statement about Sabrina’s abilities only made things worse. 

“And you’re **not** my mother, _Zelda_ , so stop acting like you are!” The words were delivered clearly, firmly and with eye contact, just like Zelda had taught her. And two-hundred years in the burning pits would have been less painful. 

Unable to maintain her mask, Zelda’s lips quivered, and she flicked her gaze away, attempting to hide how deeply the words had hurt. Before she could gather herself to respond, though, Hilda was standing next to her and yelling, actually yelling, at Sabrina. 

“Oi! You **do not** speak to your Aunt Zelda like that. _Not ever!_ ” Hilda exclaimed, pointing a finger at Sabrina. 

Zelda had done nothing to deserve Hilda’s defense, but she appreciated it more than she’d ever be able to say. It had given her a much-needed moment to compose herself to keep the tears from spilling over as they had done on Hilda’s cheeks. 

“It’s fine, Hilda.” She murmured, though it was anything but. “You heard her, she’s not a child, and I’m—” Zelda licked her lips. “I’m not her mother. She’s a grown-up witch now, and it’s time she learned how the world, the realms, really work. _Everything. Has. A. Price._ ” She paused, wishing more than anything that she could spare her girl—no, not her girl, Sabrina had been clear about that. Zelda wished she could spare Sabrina this lesson. 

But she was left with no choice. “Edward learned that lesson.” Zelda swallowed, images of a plane crash she’d never seen flashing in her mind. “I learned it.” The memory of that lesson welled up, but she culled it and buried it once more; now wasn’t the time. “It’s your turn now. Try to save this mortal, even if it rips the membrane to pieces. But don’t pretend it’s not for selfish reasons.” Zelda looked at her niece and took a deep breath, she knew from experience when something was being done for selfish reasons. “And _don’t_ ” come crying to me when it all blows up in your face.” With that, Zelda spun and headed upstairs. Desperately needing to get away from everyone before she lost the internal battle with her emotions and they came spilling out. 

When she reached their room, Zelda pressed the door shut and retrieved her flog. Her breaths were coming in ragged bursts; she’d failed. Pacing the room, Zelda tapped the flog against her leg as she moved, head whirling with the events from the past hour. 

And to think, she’d been stupid enough to believe good things were coming. This was just life reminding her she didn’t deserve good things. She didn’t deserve them because she’d failed. She hadn’t protected anyone. 

The Spellmans would become extinct and it would be because of her incompetence. Her inability to save her family. Zelda knew she should go after Sabrina, or better yet, just go to the Kinkle house and dispose of the poor husk of a boy her niece had resurrected—it would mean keeping her word to Faustus. 

But she couldn’t. 

Once more she couldn’t deny Sabrina what she wanted to do—even with everything hanging by a thread. Sabrina **had** to learn this lesson, though, nothing else Zelda did got through to the girl; perhaps this would. 

Dropping the flog onto her bed, Zelda laid on the floor to astral project, not even taking the normal precautions of lit candles against psychopomps. The last thing Zelda heard as she entered the astral plane was Salem meowing at the closed door. It didn’t take long to find Sabrina; she was walking through the woods with Wardwell—Zelda really would have to kill that woman—towards where the portal could be summoned. Keeping a discreet distance, Zelda hid behind a tree and watched as Sabrina shouted the spell to open the portal. 

To Sabrina’s astonishment, the portal opened. But Zelda hadn’t missed Wardwell mouthing the words in unison with her niece. That bitch was manipulating her girl, allowing Sabrina to believe her power was greater than it was…. Which would only lead to more reckless behavior in the future, of that Zelda was sure. 

Sabrina didn’t linger long, she disappeared into the portal, Wardwell acting as her anchor. Zelda ignored the psychopomps as they gathered, flitting around her in increasing numbers and agitation. But she wasn’t going to leave until Sabrina emerged, even if she could sense the Dweller of the Abyss starting to lurk around the edges of her periphery. 

When Sabrina burst out, the Kinkle boy in tow, Zelda collapsed behind the tree where she was hiding. The relief flooding her was short lived though, the boy quickly disintegrating. Wardwell blamed the soul-eater, Zelda had other ideas, one that involved more manipulation and deceit. But she had to get back to her body before the psychopomps took her—they weren’t looking much like harmless sparrows anymore. 

Ending the spell, Zelda sat up gasping, hand on her chest and Salem circling her, hissing and swiping at the psychopomps that had started to dive bomb her. He must have changed form to get through the door. Stroking the cat’s head as the birds reluctantly disappeared, Zelda rubbed her forehead with her free hand. 

She knew Sabrina’s lesson wasn’t done, but Zelda didn’t need to watch anymore. Didn’t need to see the heartbreaking scene between her niece and the mortal boy she’d torn everything down for. Besides, Zelda had her own lesson to carry out. Though thankful for his earlier assistance, Zelda picked up Salem and deposited him outside of the room, closing the door. It wasn’t his job to watch out for her—it wasn’t anyone’s. 

Stripping down to her slip, Zelda picked up the flog. She paused, just for a moment, Faustus’ plea for her to come to him the next time she felt compelled to hurt herself echoing in her mind. But she shook her head at her own idiocy. If she went to Faustus, he’d know she hadn’t handled the situation as promised. Zelda knew Sabrina ultimately would, it was a lesson her niece had to learn. But Zelda doubted that was what Faustus expected when she’d begged him to let her handle it. 

So, no, she couldn’t go to Faustus, leaving only this… as usual. Besides, this entire ordeal had likely destroyed whatever semblance of a relationship they’d managed to build over the past few weeks. It was just another lesson for her; don’t indulge in personal things, it only caused pain. 

There was another kind of pain that needed to be dealt with first, though. So, she lifted the flog and began to whip herself. But, but it wasn’t helping. The punishment didn’t fit the crime. This time her failure was too big to be whipped away. 

Sabrina had performed necromancy, slit a witch’s throat without hesitation—even if she’d planned to bring Agatha back, she’d had no qualms about the violence. About the murder. Heaven, Sabrina hadn’t even considered it murder, that was how tremendously Zelda had failed. It was her doing that’d led to this. Zelda’s own actions against Hilda. She’d done this. Sabrina was supposed to be better than her. She’d raised her girl right, but at the same time provided an example of violence being acceptable as long as the victim could be revived. 

The whip moved faster, harder. Zelda couldn’t let Sabrina grow up to be like her; she was a failure, a reject—her girl _needed_ to be better. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she continued to strike her back, alternating sides and hoping that if she went long enough, hit hard enough, it would make up for her failures in raising Sabrina. She’d barely begun, only 32 lashes in, hardly even broken the skin when Hilda entered. Apparently, in her haste to get Salem out of the room, she’d forgotten to relock the door. 

“Zelds?” Came a gentle voice, “I noticed psychopomps…” She began, voice raising in pitch in confusion at the sound as she opened the door. “No! No, no, no, no, no! Stop it!” 

Zelda managed to get a few more brutal strikes in before Hilda grabbed her arm and only then did she stop, panting hard. 

Snatching the flog from her, Hilda tossed it aside, eyes already shining. “Zee, why would you do that to yourself.” She carefully guided Zelda to the bed and sat beside her. 

But she couldn’t form any words, all Zelda could do was take short, shaky breathes. It was only when Hilda shifted to try and get a look at her back that Zelda found words, both needing to distract her sister from the damage and to release some of her inner turmoil. “We were wrong.” She whispered tearfully. 

“What?” Hilda blinked and brought her eyes back to Zelda’s, though they drifted towards her back again. 

Sniffling, Zelda shifted on the bed, hating how weak she sounded but the floodgates were open now. “All those years ago…. We should _never_ have taken Sabrina in.” She breathed, barely audible. “We should’ve let Diana’s family have her.” Maybe if they’d done that they wouldn’t all be slated for torture and death for the resurrection of a moral boy. 

Hilda shook her head slightly and mouthed a soft no at the suggestion. But Zelda couldn’t stop, the words kept coming. 

“It was my arrogance. To think that I could raise her. Guide her.” She gulped, shivering from her aborted punishment and the emotional whirlpool swirling inside her. Because while she may have raised Sabrina, she hadn’t done it properly. Sabrina had followed more of Zelda’s example than her words; internalizing how Zelda didn’t focus on religion when Sabrina was young and therefore seeing it as acceptable to defy the Dark Lord. Her niece had also internalized how Zelda didn’t even flinch at violence, whether it be the violent ends of the corpses in the morgue, her actions towards Hilda, or even her actions towards anyone who was a potential threat to her family. Sabrina had seen all of this, absorbed it, and then went and slit another witch’s throat without a second thought. 

And even in the face of all her failures as a parent, as a guardian, Zelda **still** hadn’t been able to say no. She’d let Sabrina go off with that damnable Wardwell woman to try and fix it—even when Zelda knew there was no fixing anything. 

Her voice cracked when she started to talk again, “but she looked so much like Edward. Remember?” Hilda smiled tremulously at her in return, still clutching her hands tightly. And the sympathy in her sister’s expression had fresh sobs escaping her throat. “I couldn’t say no. I could never say no to Sabrina.” Just like she’d never been able to say no to the brother the girl so resembled. 

Hilda looked at her a little incredulously then and spoke for the first time since sitting. “Zelda… you always say no to Sabrina.” A small chuckle escaped Hilda and she squeezed Zelda’s hands. “She just doesn’t listen to you.” 

A shuddering exhale went through Zelda’s body and she sniffled. If only Hilda knew all the lines she’d drawn and then crossed over the years. Her sister wouldn’t be so confident in that statement. 

“Come on, now.” Hilda slipped an arm around her carefully, trying to pull her into a hug. 

Zelda resisted a moment, she should yank away, stand and wipe her eyes, say something blithe or cruel to brush the whole situation away. She should do anything but continue to let her sister see the cracks that suddenly felt like they’d split wide open into canyons. 

But Hilda knew her well and tugged her gently again and Zelda’s resolve crumbled. So, she allowed Hilda to pull her closer and to gently kiss the side of her head before she rested it on Hilda’s shoulder. It was then she broke down completely and wept, sobbing like she hadn’t since Edward died. It seemed there was something to the saying about bottling up ones’ emotions. 

While she cried, Hilda rocked with her, arms tight around her and soothing sounds coming from her mouth that were only occasionally broken by hiccups which told Zelda her sister was crying as well. 

It took some time before she was able to calm down, to collect herself. When she did, she disengaged from Hilda, pulling away from the comfort her sister was providing—ashamed of her weakness and loss of composure. 

Hilda twisted her hands in her lap, “Zelda,” she began carefully, “how long have you been doing this?” 

“Doing what?” Zelda countered, proud of how flippant she managed to sound in the moment. She’d been so weak, to the point of not only allowing Hilda to catch her in the act but also then accepting comfort. It wasn’t acceptable, she had to be strong again—though her hand still itched for the whip; 36 lashes weren’t nearly enough to compensate for Sabrina’s crime…. Her crime. 

Unfortunately, Hilda wasn’t deterred. “Zee, there are, there are lots of marks on your back that are _not_ from tonight.” She whispered the observation, clearly horrified and concerned. 

Averting her eyes, Zelda shifted away from her sister. So, even more of her shame and weakness would be delved into tonight it seemed. It was one thing when Faustus found out, but now Hilda? Somehow her sister knowing was _far_ worse…. 

“It’s not important.” She replied primly, “what is important is finding Sabrina and making sure she’s okay.” 

Hilda sighed quietly, “my familiars are on it. Sabrina’s left the Kinkle house and is on her way home. Her trip did not end well.” 

“I know how her trip to limbo went.” Zelda snapped, desperately needing to reestablish the roles they normally held. 

If anything, her rudeness had Hilda softening further. “Zelda, please,” she implored, “talk to me. How long have you—” 

Wiping her cheeks, Zelda sat taller. “Years.” She answered brusquely, standing to pull her dress back on; wincing minutely at the movement of and pressure on her irritated skin. 

Hilda hiccupped, “ **years?!** Zelda, why?” She reached out to touch her arm, but Zelda stepped away. 

“It’s not important.” 

Her sister stood now too, a fire in her eyes that she rarely let others see. “Yes. It. Is. You’re hurting yourself! Zelda—” 

Exhaling slowly, Zelda tried once more to pass of the situation as nothing. “Hilda, please. We have much more important matters to tend to.” 

“No.” Hilda crossed her arms, though the defiant stance was slightly undermined by the few tears still trekking down her cheeks. “You don’t get to talk yourself out of this one. Why?” She demanded. 

Zelda ran her tongue over her teeth, trying to come up with some explanation that would satisfy her sister. None came to mind… which was exactly why she’d never wanted Hilda to find out. Well, perhaps part of the truth wouldn’t hurt. “It was punishment for my failures.” She explained monotonously. 

Blinking, Hilda stared at her, trying to comprehend her words. “Zee, what failures are you talking about?! What could possible warrant—” 

“My failures as an aunt, a witch, as head of the Spellman house… as a sister.” She added on the end in a whisper before resuming her normal tone. “Flogging is meant to strengthen you. So, whenever I was weak and failed, I would—” her voice cracked, unable to maintain the unaffected façade, and she didn’t finish her sentence. 

Instead, she slipped her jacket back on over her dress, grimacing slightly, and did up the buttons—effectively hiding any evidence of her actions. Before Hilda could reply, Zelda’s head snapped up and she looked at the door. Sabrina was back, her niece passing through the wards—it would only take five minutes for her to reach the house. Hurriedly, Zelda straightened her hair, wiped away any residual makeup from her cheeks and waved a hand to rid her face of any sign of tears. “Sabrina’s back,” she informed Hilda, “she’ll need comforting.” She murmured, quickly making her escape from the room, ignoring how Hilda called after her, offering to heal her. 

Hilda sighed and sank back onto the bed, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes until she saw bursts of color. How could Zelda have been doing this for _years_ and she had been none the wiser? Raising her eyes, Hilda stared at where her sister had disappeared, still seeing the scars etched into Zelda’s skin even with the dress in place. 

How many times had she seen Zelda wince from leaning back against something, from reaching for a higher shelf? How often had she seen the signs and thought them merely the effects of aging and stress? How much sooner could she have helped her sister? 

Chin trembling, Hilda pushed off the bed and snatched up the flog from the corner of the room where she’d flung it. Well, there was nothing she could do to change the past, but there was plenty she could do to help her sister and prevent this from happening again. 

Moving to the trunk at the end of her bed, Hilda whispered a spell and opened the enchanted compartment only she had access to and dropped the flog inside before re-sealing it. That would have to be enough for now, first they had to tend to Sabrina and then maybe Hilda could tend to her sister. Steeling herself, Hilda cast a glamor spell of her own to hide the tears and made for the kitchen to start some tea. 

Zelda paced the porch, waiting anxiously for Sabrina to come into view, she knew what happened, what **had** to have happened to restore the balance. She just wasn’t sure how it had been accomplished and badly wished that her girl hadn’t had to be the one to put the older Kinkle boy down for good. 

When Sabrina came staggering out of the darkness, tears clogged Zelda’s throat once more, but she managed to swallow them down for the sake of her niece who’d reached the bottom of the steps. 

“It’s over, Aunt Zelda.” Sabrina informed her in a wavering voice, “Tommy’s gone… and Harvey and I…” The rest of the sentence was lost in sobs and Sabrina all but collapsed onto one of the lower steps. 

She was down the stairs so fast that Zelda almost caught Sabrina as she landed on the step. Zelda instantly pulled Sabrina into a tight embrace, holding her girl and running a soothing hand along her back. Sabrina clutched at her, one arm banding around her back, the other gripping her arm—tears wetting the front of her jacket. 

Tears of her own escaped down her cheeks as Zelda rocked back and forth gently, murmuring calming sentiments. She pressed a kiss to the crown of Sabrina’s head before resting her cheek against the back of Sabrina’s head. 

Her girl had finally learned everything had a price, and it was the most painful of lessons—Zelda knew from experience. So, Zelda stayed outside holding Sabrina for 30 minutes, cradling and soothing her girl until she was calm enough to move inside. 

“Come now, sweetheart,” Zelda prompted, lifting her niece and guiding her up the stairs and into the house, still tucked into Zelda’s embrace. She caught Hilda’s eye in the kitchen and her sister held up a kettle of tea. Zelda nodded gratefully and led Sabrina up to her room, the girl’s arms still wrapped tightly around her aunt’s waist. 

When they reached the door, Zelda carefully disengaged, framing Sabrina’s face and kissing her forehead. “Change, I will be back in a moment with some tea.” Sabrina nodded sadly and went into her room, Zelda hovered for a moment before returning to the kitchen. “What have you got?” She asked Hilda, spinning her rings anxiously. 

“Calming tea with a drop of foxglove to help her sleep.” Hilda answered, handing over the kettle and a cup. 

Sighing in appreciation, Zelda took the items, “clever. Thank you.” She turned to leave when Hilda’s hand landed on her arm. 

“Zelds, about—” 

“Not now.” She interrupted curtly, making her way back to Sabrina a little faster; refusing to have the conversation she knew Hilda wanted. Once back upstairs, Zelda found Sabrina curled up under her covers, her fist curled around a necklace. 

Setting down the tea, Zelda poured a cup for Sabrina and coaxed her to sit up. “Here, sweetheart,” she passed the cup to Sabrina before sitting on the edge of the bed. Sabrina downed the tea in two gulps, likely scalding her mouth and throat, but she handed the cup back and burrowed under the blanket without a word. Frowning slightly, Zelda set the cup aside and smoothed Sabrina’s hair back. “That should soothe some of the pain,” she promised, catching a tear with the pad of her thumb. 

“I want to hurt right now. I deserve it.” Sabrina whispered wretchedly, curling further into herself. 

Zelda suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at the teenage dramatics and kept her silence. She knew how it felt to feel deserving of pain, of punishment for failing someone she loved. Though she’d _never_ allow Sabrina to take the recourse she had. 

“Auntie Zee?” Sabrina’s voice recaptured her attention and Zelda hummed in acknowledgement. “Will you stay with me?” She asked in a small voice, turning to look at Zelda with tear filled eyes. 

Nodding, Zelda smiled tenderly at her niece. “Of course, darling.” She stood, toed off her shoes and rounded the bed to climb onto the other side. Propping herself against the headboard, Zelda winced when her back pressed against the unforgiving metal bars—thank Satan, Sabrina didn’t notice. 

Her girl merely rolled over and snuggled into Zelda’s side immediately. The action left Zelda stunned for a moment, she quickly regained herself and wrapped her arms around Sabrina once more…. Sabrina hadn’t done something like this since she was five years-old—before Zelda had to start telling her no. Cuddling into her side, Sabrina rested her head over Zelda’s heart and slipped an arm around her waist, hugging her aunt close. 

“Rest, sweet girl, we’ll deal with everything else in the morning.” Zelda kissed Sabrina’s head once more and Sabrina sighed and settled more heavily against her, tears trekking down her cheeks and soaking in the comfort Zelda was providing. 

Soon, Sabrina fell asleep, Hilda’s foxglove whisking their niece into a dreamless sleep. Zelda stayed there all night, sleeping fitfully in her semi-upright position and trying not to wake Sabrina when her night terrors disturbed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this chapter puts me just over 200 pages in my word document. o__O
> 
> Never expected this fic to be so long and it's only going to get longer. Just wanted to thank everyone for sticking with me, for the hits, kudos and comments. <3


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _additional information added in edits to Zelda's price_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter just kept getting longer, but I didn’t want to cut it in half. So, I hope you are all ready for a monster of a chapter! Truly, it’s a monster, be warned.
> 
> Trigger warning: mentions of child abuse.

Zelda woke the next morning, horribly stiff and unable to process where she was for a moment. It was only when Sabrina mumbled and curled further into her side that the events from the night before came flooding back. 

Exhaling slowly, Zelda carefully extracted herself from Sabrina’s hold and went to the bathroom to freshen up; knowing she likely looked a mess. When she came back into the room, Sabrina was awake, though still buried under the covers and now cuddling her stuffed rabbit. 

“Morning darling,” Zelda murmured, climbing back onto the bed and cautiously leaning against the headboard so as to not alert Sabrina to her discomfort and pain. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” She brushed her niece’s hair back from her face. 

Sabrina shrugged a little and scooted closer to Zelda. 

Pressing her lips together, Zelda adjusted the blanket on Sabrina’s shoulders. “How about,” she tipped Sabrina’s chin up to look at her gently, “we go downstairs and have some breakfast and tea? And then we can stay in our pajamas and work on the new jigsaw puzzle your Auntie Hilda and I got. Hmm?” Normally, Zelda’s Sundays were packed with work for the mortuary, trying to play catch up or coordinating funerals. But a lazy day seemed like the best kind of medicine for them all. 

A tear rolled down Sabrina’s cheek. “I don’t want to get out of bed right now, Aunt Zee.” She whispered, clutching her rabbit closer to her. 

Zelda looked at her and considered making her get out of bed anyway. Perhaps one morning in bed wouldn’t hurt, though. “I’ll bring you up some tea and toast.” She pressed a kiss to Sabrina’s forehead before standing and leaving the room. 

Thankfully, Hilda wasn’t in the kitchen. Zelda could see her out the window working in the garden—the work had always been soothing for her sister and Hell knew they needed whatever soothing activities they could get at the moment. 

Quickly, Zelda prepared tea and toast and retreated back upstairs to Sabrina’s room. This time, when she reentered, Sabrina was at least sitting up, Salem purring in her lap. 

“Auntie… I have something I need to tell you.” Sabrina bit her lip and lifted her gaze from her familiar to Zelda’s face. 

The words automatically caused Zelda’s heart to pound; what else could have possibly happened that Sabrina would be anxious to tell her? Humming in response and feigning a calm she did not feel, Zelda set the tray down in front of her niece and settled on the edge of the bed. 

Sabrina fidgeted for a moment and then blurted it out. “I told Harvey I’m a witch.” When Zelda just blinked, trying to process the information, Sabrina hurried to continue. “I **had** to explain. I couldn’t just tell him Tommy had to die again—even if Harvey knew something was wrong with his brother, he _never_ would have let anything happen to him. I needed to make him understand how dangerous it was for Tommy to live… and to do that I had to tell him the truth, about how I brought him back, how it failed, how, how it was all my fault.” Sabrina’s voice cracked and fresh tears leaked down her cheeks. 

Sighing, Zelda pulled Sabrina into a hug and her girl broke down into sobs, her body shuddering within Zelda’s embrace. “Oh darling,” she rocked Sabrina back and forth, careful not to disturb the tray of food on the bed. After a few minutes, Zelda pulled back and wiped Sabrina’s tears. “You know I have to go speak with him, right?” 

It was the only recourse. Zelda had to ensure this boy, this boy who came from a family of witch hunters, didn’t decide to take up his family’s old mantle and take revenge on witching kind for stealing his brother from him… twice. 

Nodding shakily, Sabrina sniffed and took a sip of tea. “I understand…” She whispered, tracing the lip of the teacup to avoid eye contact. “Please don’t erase his memory, Auntie Zelda.” Sabrina pled, raising her eyes once more. “He doesn’t want magic used on or around him.” 

The sentiment wasn’t unexpected, given everything that happened to the Kinkle family because of magic. But the feeling might change once Zelda told the mortal boy her offer. “I will give Harvey the option,” Zelda told her niece truthfully. “If he wishes to forget the exact scenario which lead to his brother’s two deaths, including that **he** was technically the cause of the second…” She lifted a brow at Sabrina. “Should he accept, I’ll adjust his memories so they are untainted by the knowledge that everything was caused by witches. Instead, he would believe it was a mining accident, that Tommy miraculously survived but the trauma was too much, and his brother took his own life.” 

“Will you let him remember what I told him? About being a witch?” Her niece picked at the comforter, still not meeting Zelda’s eyes. 

And as much as Zelda wanted to wipe the boy’s memories completely, to remove any possibility of him exposing witching kind, she knew she couldn’t do that to Sabrina. “I will leave that to Harvey.” She answered simply, knowing it wasn’t quite the response Sabrina wanted, but it was what she needed to hear. 

Swallowing, Sabrina sniffed but nodded. “It should be his choice. You’re right.” She conceded, a tear falling off her cheek and landing in her lap. 

“I have to go and handle this and a few other things,” Zelda informed her, pushing off the bed once more. “Aunt Hilda is out in the garden, but I know she’d be happy to have you join her. Or you two could get started on the puzzle and I can help when I get back.” 

Sabrina took another sip of tea and nibbled at her toast; at least she was eating. “Okay, maybe I’ll go down in a little while.” She mumbled, though from the way she scooted a little further under the blankets Zelda assumed her girl would be in bed still by the time she got back. 

But that was something she could deal with when she returned; first, she needed to go and talk with Harvey Kinkle. Dropping a kiss on the top of Sabrina’s head, Zelda went and changed into clean clothes, fixed her hair and makeup before heading back to the kitchen. 

As she was taking a casserole Hilda made the other day out of the fridge, her sister walked inside pulling off her gardening gloves. 

“Zelds?” Hilda gave her a questioning look, eyes flicking to the casserole in her hands. “What? Where are you going with that?” She asked, seeing that Zelda had her coat on. 

Slinging her purse over her shoulder, Zelda made for the door. “To the Kinkle’s. I need to speak with Harvey about what happened. And this,” she held up the food, “is an excuse.” 

A frown tugged at Hilda’s features. “Don’t you think that boy has enough—” 

“Sabrina told him we’re witches.” Zelda cut off her sister’s slight remonstration and leveled her with a look, her hand on the front door. 

Hilda blinked, taken aback and she gaped for a moment. “She, she what?” 

Feeling mildly bad about dropping that particular bomb on her sister, Zelda nodded curtly. “Yes. So, as you can see, I need to go over and talk with him about it. And I need you,” she continued when Hilda looked as though she were going to offer to come along. “To stay here with Sabrina. She’s upstairs in her room still, I brought her some tea and toast. But she shouldn’t stay in bed all day. I suggested working in the garden with you or starting that puzzle we got, but if you have any better ideas please just get her out of her own head.” 

Sighing, Hilda nodded, twisting her fingers. “Alright, but when you get back, we **are** going to talk about what you’ve—” 

But Zelda disappeared before Hilda could finish the sentence, when she reappeared at the edge of the Kinkle property, Zelda smoothed back her hair and made for the house. Of course, her sister couldn’t just let the incident go, of course she _had_ to insist on talking about it. 

Well, it was comforting, in a sense, that despite everything going on with Sabrina her sister could still spare some thoughts for her. At the same time, though, Zelda wanted to do anything but talk to Hilda about her…. coping method. 

These were thoughts for another time though, shaking herself to clear her head, Zelda reached up and knocked on the Kinkle door. 

If Harvey was surprised to see her, he didn’t show it; though when his father caught sight of her his eyes widened almost comically and he hurriedly disappeared up the stairs. 

“May I come in?” Zelda asked, lifting the casserole slightly as though it were a peace offering and not a thin excuse for being there. 

Shrugging, Harvey stepped aside and let Zelda in. He then took the food and made for the kitchen without a word, Zelda trailed after him and took a seat at the table while he stowed the food in the fridge. 

When Harvey settled at the table across from her, she jumped right in; they both knew why she was there. “I know you have many things to worry about, but I need to speak with you about something Sabrina told you.” 

“I won’t tell anyone,” he muttered tiredly, resting his head in his hands where they were propped on the table. 

Zelda softened; he had lost his brother two times over, at least she’d only lost Edward once. “I appreciate that. If you did, it would put countless lives in danger—witch and mortal alike.” It was a lot to place on the shoulders of teenage mortal, but then again, Sabrina had been the one to put it there first; Zelda was just making sure the boy could handle the weight. 

Harvey brought his gaze back to hers, “I understand, Ms. Spellman. I don’t want anyone else getting hurt.” 

Nodding, Zelda resisted the sudden urge to reach across the table and squeeze the boy’s hand—neither one of them would be comfortable with that. Instead, she made another gesture in attempt to soothe the pain. “If you would like, I could… adjust your memories of last night.” The words sent a spike of terror through Harvey, Zelda could tell by the way he sat up abruptly and pressed against the back of his chair, eyes wide with alarm. Quickly, Zelda continued to try and lessen his concern. “I wouldn’t take away anything you didn’t approve of. What I mean is, I can make it as though Tommy really did kill himself over the trauma in the mines. You wouldn’t have to remember you did it. If you choose, you’d still remember the secret Sabrina deemed you worthy of hearing,” Zelda sniffed in disapproval but continued. “But you wouldn’t have to live with the rest. It would be as if the mining accident and everything that followed was natural.” And not stinking with magic and witch interference, she added in her head, cursing teenage witches while she was at it. 

Slowly, the tension drained from Harvey and he slumped in his chair, though he was still watching her warily. “You can really do that?” 

Zelda arched a brow, “yes. You’d still have to be the one to find Tommy, in these new memories.” She grimaced a little, but shrugged, “though it seems that would fit the lie you told your father and everyone else.” 

Leaning back in his seat, she could tell Harvey was seriously considering the offer. But eventually, he shook his head. “The last time magic got involved in my life it led to all of this. I don’t think I want any more.” 

Inclining her head in acceptance, Zelda stood. “I understand, thank you for listening to me. I am very, truly sorry for your loss.” She gave him a thin smile and made for the door. 

“Ms. Spellman?” He called after her, and she turned partially to face him. “Thank you, for, for your help with my dad.” Harvey looked away, cheeks blazing at the acknowledgement of what his father had almost done at the funeral. Something must have flashed across her face at the statement, because Harvey added on quickly. “He hasn’t tried to do anything like that since. I think you scared him too much.” 

And from the way he worded it, Zelda knew that while the boy’s father might not be physically threatening anymore, he was likely verbally abusive in some capacity. Memories floated to the forefront of her mind, but Zelda quashed them once more and turned to face Harvey completely. “I can do more to ensure he doesn’t—” 

Harvey shook his head vigorously, “I meant what I said about magic, but thank you.” 

Giving him a small smile, Zelda nodded. “Of course, it was the least I could do.” 

She left the Kinkle house, a sour pit in her stomach. Zelda could call the mortal police, report that she’d seen Mr. Kinkle take a swing at his son. But she knew Harvey wouldn’t appreciate or want that. He’d already lost his mother, now his brother… and no matter how vile, his father was his father. What would happen to him if his father was arrested? 

Maybe he’d get placed locally in a foster home, but most likely he’d be moved to Riverdale; far from everything he knew. At least she’d had her older brothers left to look out for her. And there was always the possibility the police would merely let Mr. Kinkle off with a warning, no charges pressed because there was no physical evidence… that wouldn’t end well for Harvey either. 

No, reporting this wouldn’t make life any better for Harvey, but perhaps Zelda could do a few discreet things to discourage Mr. Kinkle from certain destructive behaviors. 

Sighing, Zelda found an appropriately discreet spot and teleported home. She just wanted a nice cup of calming tea, all her interactions with Harvey, Sabrina’s recent lesson… it was drudging up old memories she’d buried _long_ ago of her own price. And until recently, she’d been successful at forgetting. 

Now though, Zelda shook herself, now wasn’t the time to dwell on old lessons and prices paid. Now she just needed to recuperate from these last few weeks. When Hilda intercepted her on her way to the kitchen, though, Zelda knew the day would be anything but the relaxing and recovering one she desperately needed. 

“Zelda,” Hilda gripped her arm as if afraid she’d teleport away again; a valid concern. “We **need** to talk about—” 

Glancing over Hilda’s shoulder, Zelda interrupted her sister loudly. “Sabrina! Darling, so good to see you out of bed. Is there anything you need?” 

Their niece had just morosely trudged into the kitchen, tugging at the sleeves of her pajama top to avoid eye contact. “Just getting some tea,” she mumbled, eyes red rimmed and nose slightly pink. 

They both nodded at Sabrina and stepped aside to let her get what she needed. Hilda also released Zelda’s arm, wanting to act as though everything were normal between the two of them. 

This gave Zelda an idea. And for the rest of the day she managed to avoid her sister and the talk she knew Hilda wanted to have by keeping either Sabrina or Ambrose in close proximity—knowing her sister wouldn’t bring up the topic with them around. 

The one time Hilda did manage to corner her without either of the kids around, Zelda escaped the house via teleportation; making quick excuses of classes to prepare for and midwife appointments. 

Only, when Zelda arrived at the academy, she realized she had nothing to prepare for. As the new choir director, she was still gauging the abilities of her students and therefore didn’t need lesson plans yet; besides, Constance had lessons for the rest of term already outlined, Zelda could easily use those. 

So, instead of wandering aimlessly around the grounds or hiding in her office, Zelda found her way to the Infernal Infirmary. She wanted to check in on Agatha, now that the Kinkle boy was dead the witch should be much improved. 

When she walked into the infirmary, Agatha was rightfully surprised to see her, and a little wary. But as they talked, discussing Agatha’s classes, her interests, her thoughts on what she might do once out of the academy—the girl relaxed and seemed truly grateful for Zelda’s visit. She only left when the other weird sisters arrived, each of them nodding at her politely. 

“Professor Spellman!” Prudence called after her, catching her in the hallway. “I wanted to apologize for going after the Kinkle boy.” She averted her eyes and despite her words being an apology, her tone was still slightly haughty. 

Raising a brow, Zelda examined the girl. “I was under the impression your sisters were the ones to go after the boy in the mines. _Without_ your input, which is how Agatha was the one chosen for the pit.” 

Prudence blinked, “well, yes. My sisters attacked the mortals first, but I meant when my father sent Dorcas and I to handle the resurrected boy afterwards. I’d, I’d thought Sabrina would have told you about our presence.” She remarked uncertainly. 

A tight smile stretched Zelda’s lips, and she crossed her arms. “Tell me everything,” she instructed. 

~~~~~~~~ 

After Prudence filled her in, Zelda went straight to Blackwood manor to confront Faustus…. And if it was also an excuse to avoid her sister, well, that was just a bonus. Besides, she’d said she had a midwifery appointment, it wouldn’t hurt to check in on Constance and prove to her sister she could be truthful about _some_ things. 

When Constance opened the door, Zelda smiled as naturally as possible. “Lady Blackwood, I thought I would pop by to see how you and the babes were doing. Given our last—” 

Though she arched a mistrusting brow, Constance nodded and waved her in, clearly not wanting to relive their last encounter, which had been at the Feast of Feasts. “Thank you for your diligence, Sister Zelda. I am happy the strife between our families has not kept you from your duties as a midwife.” It was clear Constance sensed she had another purpose for being there, but given the lack of evidence to the contrary, Constance had nothing to base her suspicions on. 

“Of course, Lady Blackwood. And given how close you are to your due date I didn’t want to make you travel unnecessarily.” The niceties exchanged, they entered the house further and Constance led her to one of the spare bedrooms on the ground floor. They passed Faustus in his office on the way there, and the current situation notwithstanding, his expression when he saw Zelda glide by behind his wife was comical. 

But Constance called back to him, without looking, that Zelda was just checking on the babes and he need not bother himself. 

The checkup went smoothly, and the babes thriving, which was a relief—given the stress the hysteria put on Constance’s body. But it appeared staying home had calmed the worst, if not all, of Constance’s hysteria. There were fewer triggers for her anxiety when at home and not having daily contact with the weird sisters likely did wonders as well. 

So, despite their general dislike for one another, the appointment went well, and they acted civilly. It seemed Constance had come to terms with the fact that Zelda was the best chance she had for seeing her babies into this realm. And while Zelda would have liked to curse the woman for putting her family in danger at the Feast, she knew delivering Faustus’ children was the only thing keeping her in his good graces given Sabrina’s recent illegal activities. 

As they wrapped up, Zelda turned to Constance. “Twins often come early and given your past pregnancies the labor will likely not be an easy one. Please follow this diet, get plenty of sleep and reduce any amount of stress possible so the babes can remain in the womb for as long as possible.” She handed over a slip of suggested foods. 

Constance took the paper and scoffed, “reduce stress? I’ll see what I can do, but it seems every other day something new pops up.” 

A knowing smile tugged at Zelda’s lips, “I know the feeling.” She commiserated, packing up the rest of her equipment and picking up her bag. “I suggest lots of calming teas and tinctures, there are even charms you can carry around in your pockets to help. I can ask Hilda to make some for you, if you would like.” 

“That would be appreciated.” Constance acquiesced, adjusting her dress slightly. “I trust you can see yourself out. I tire quite easily these days and find myself needing to rest.” 

Nodding, Zelda left the room and shut the door quietly behind her. She’d barely gotten five feet down the hall when Faustus’ hand shot out of his office and pulled her inside. 

“We need to talk.” He explained, releasing her arm but closing the door and as it shut Zelda felt a silencing spell fall into place. 

Quirking a brow, Zelda crossed her arms, “I suppose we do.” She remarked, curious as to whether he would admit to trying to go behind her back with the Kinkle boy. 

“I know balance has been restored, the mortal boy dead. But this resurrection is _above and beyond_ anything Sabrina has done in the past.” He paced the room slightly, picking up his cane and tapping it on the floor anxiously as he did. “Which is astounding considering she performed an **exorcism** on a mortal not long ago. It’s dangerous. Not only for her but for others, you saw what happened to Agatha.” Faustus stopped and turned to look at her directly and Zelda could see a little pleading in his eyes, begging her to agree with him that Sabrina was out of control. 

And though she agreed, knew her niece **had** to be reined in, Zelda couldn’t give in quite so easily. “Is that why you sent Prudence and Dorcas after the Kinkle boy even though I said I would handle the situation?” 

Faustus had the grace to grimace, but it was almost immediately undermined by how he shrugged. “I had to make sure, there was no room for mistakes.” 

She hummed and leaned against his desk. “’Mistakes’ wasn’t the word they used. Recalcitrant, I think it was.” Zelda cocked her head at him expectantly. 

Exhaling slowly, Faustus pinched the bridge of his nose. “They told you.” 

Scoffing, Zelda lit a cigarette. “Of course,” she took a long draw and held the smoke a moment before releasing it. “I’d like to say it’s because they’re quite taken with me… I did help save Prudence from the Feast, after all. But I seriously doubt it was for such selfless reasons. Surely, Prudence thought to gain something from it, though what I’m not sure. Regardless—” 

“Zels, the girls caused the original death of the boy and played a significant role in the resurrection. I was merely ensuring they learned everything has a price. Something they clearly hadn’t learned from meddling in mortal affairs and their participation in an illegal ritual. Sending them after the boy was their price, they had to clean up the mess they helped make.” Faustus clarified, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. 

Taking another long draw of nicotine to steady herself, Zelda glared at the warlock in front of her. “And why was it more appropriate for you to teach that to your students than it was for me to teach it to Sabrina?” She demanded archly, tapping some ash into his half full glass on the desk; still irritated he hadn’t trusted her to get the job done. 

“It’s not. But every second that husk of a mortal drew breath was a second that threatened to expose witching kind **and** diminished Agatha’s life further. You must admit, your niece is a slow and reluctant learner when it comes to certain lessons—I assumed this would be one of them and I couldn’t risk Agatha’s death or the reanimated boy revealing us.” 

Grinding her teeth, Zelda shook her head, hating that Faustus’ argument was valid. “You still should have trusted me. Trusted that I knew what I was doing and how I was allowing Sabrina to learn her lesson.” 

Faustus sighed and came to stand in front of her, leaning his cane against the desk next to her. “I trust you, Zels. It’s the mortals I don’t trust.” 

A huff escaped her, though the words warmed her, his actions still angered her. Sidestepping him, Zelda dropped her cigarette into his glass and made for the door. He caught her arm and pulled her into him, capturing her lips in a brief but surprising kiss. She’d thought recent events would’ve put an end to their dalliance. 

He pulled back too soon for her taste, but his hands came up and framed her face. “ _I trust you_.” Faustus repeated firmly, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “But given recent events, I had to have a plan B in place.” 

Some of the anger drained out of her, the tension leaving her shoulders and she pressed her cheek into the palm of one of his hands. “You still could have warned me,” she noted in a slightly clipped tone. “I was watching Sabrina, making sure she went through with it. I’d have stepped in if necessary.” 

A small smile curled Faustus’ lips, “I know. But if you had then none of them would have learned a lesson.” He murmured, stepping a little closer to reduce the space between them. 

“Ever the teacher,” she quipped, somewhat annoyed that she wasn’t angry with him anymore but at the same time relieved. Relieved that he hadn’t mistrusted her, but simply had an additional plan in place should things go awry—and knowing her niece they very well could have. She leaned in for another kiss and then froze. “Recalcitrant?” 

Faustus grinned, “you were the one to say you were running a house for wayward witches, I merely repeated the sentiment.” His hand slid into her hair as he spoke. 

She narrowed her eyes at him, “ **I** can call my family wayward, or any other such synonyms. Others cannot.” Zelda lifted a brow at him, and Faustus chuckled. 

“Understood.” He closed the rest of the distance between them and kissed her again. It was slow, sweet and promised nothing more than soft caresses. It had her melting against him. 

But after several long minutes, Zelda broke away. “I should go, I want to be home for dinner. Sabrina still needs…” She trailed off, she wasn’t sure what Sabrina needed, but she wanted to be there to provide it. 

Smiling softly at her, Faustus tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Of course,” he kissed her sweetly again. “I will see you tomorrow at the academy.” 

As always, his tenderness overwhelmed her and left her confused but happy. So, she just nodded, stole one last kiss and then teleported home. Zelda stood outside for a moment, trying to recall if they’d ever been so soft with one another in the past, not just when Sabrina was little, but back during their academy days. She could think of a few rare instances, but for the most part they’d been all snark, backhanded compliments and passionate sex that left their clothes in shreds—not that she’d minded that at all (still didn’t) …. But it was nice to see that their relationship, or whatever this was, had matured along with them. 

Touching her lips as if to catch the last feel of his mouth on hers, Zelda made her way inside just in time for dinner. 

They remained at the table far longer than usual after they finished eating, each of them talking about any and everything to try and distract Sabrina. Though each of them knew she’d brought this on herself, by refusing to listen to sense and more experienced witches, it was never easy to let a loved one be in pain. 

Eventually, Sabrina stood and gave them each a small smile. “Thank you,” she murmured, moving around the table to hug each of them. “But I think I’m going to bed now.” Sabrina moved towards the door and then stopped, hand on the door frame. “Auntie Zee,” she whispered, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Could you, would you please—” 

Zelda stood immediately and came to stand next to her girl, “of course.” She placed on hand on Sabrina’s back and the two of them went upstairs. 

They each readied for bed and then Zelda went into Sabrina’s room and found Sabrina already on the bed. Sliding onto the comforter next to her, Sabrina immediately curled into her side to be cuddled. Zelda wondered, for just a moment as she wrapped her girl in her arms, how long it would be appropriate to indulge this behavior. 

But this wasn’t just a broken heart, the loss of a first love… this was about death and prices and learning even magic had its limits that could not, _must not_ be crossed or tested. So, she would cuddle and distract and help her girl in any way… because it was what she’d needed when she’d paid her price. But no one had provided it and Zelda would be damned if Sabrina felt the same as she had in the aftermath of her lesson. 

As they laid there, Zelda started to tell stories of when she and her siblings were young. Laughing quietly as she recalled situations she hadn’t thought of in years; such as how Edward managed to turn his skin blue when he was seven and playing with their mother’s potion ingredients when they’d explicitly been told not to touch them. 

Sabrina smiled and even laughed for the first time since Zelda confronted her in the foyer. And Zelda felt triumphant for a moment, for having been able to distract her niece well enough to laugh. The moment didn’t last long, Sabrina seemed to catch herself and her face fell once more as if she’d remembered she wasn’t supposed to be happy. 

Shifting slightly, Sabrina lifted her face to her, “Auntie Zee?” Humming in acknowledgement, Zelda rolled her shoulders to try and relieve some of the pressure on her back. “What was the lesson you learned?” 

Zelda stiffened at the question, knowing exactly what Sabrina was referring to. And, well, could she blame her niece? She’d been the one to crack open that particular door when she stated she’d learned everything had a price personally. Before she could stop it, the memory surged to the surface and refused to be suppressed. 

_Her father had never been a particularly patient or gentle man; a gruffness seeped into almost every one of his actions. This, coupled with his expectations of near perfection for all his children, meant the Spellman house wasn’t always the most fun to grow up in—though her mother did what she could to soften the sharpest of her father’s verbal remonstrations._

_As Zelda’s dark baptism approached, her father became more and more irate with her—for things she did do, for things she didn’t. Everything was a potential disgrace to the church, to the family and would not be tolerated._

_When she’d finally signed the book, power had surged through Zelda in the most magnificent way and she’d thought that perhaps with this new power she could make her father proud; her mother certainly was. Oh, how wrong she’d been._

_If anything, her coming of age increased her father’s disappointment and impatience. Zelda would never forget the first time it happened. She’d come home from the academy for the weekend, eager to share with Hilda and her mother about her new interest in midwifery when her father intercepted her at the front door and drug her into the office._

_“What is this?” He demanded, thrusting a piece of paper under her nose._

_Startled, Zelda read the note, it was from one of her professors, stating that while a bright student, Zelda had trouble paying attention in class._

_A smirk formed on her lips, a mistake she would later label at the tipping point. “Father, this is from my Latin professor, I read ahead during class because I already know the basics. I don’t need—”_

_Her sentence was aborted by a slap across the cheek. The blow stunned her and sent her stumbling back both from the force and surprise. Zelda’s hand came up automatically to her cheek, eyes wide in the face of her father’s fury._

_“I didn’t raise an insubordinate little bitch with a superiority complex,” he snarled, snatching the paper back and flinging it to the ground. “Neither of your brothers ever had a note sent home about them. And you get one during your first term at the academy?! Disgraceful.” He gripped her upper arms hard enough to bruise and shook until her teeth rattled. “Do you know how this reflects on me as high priest? The only reason this wasn’t submitted to your official file is because **I am** the high priest and the professor was doing me a favor.” He released her with a slight shove that had her tripping into the bookshelf lining the wall. “You are old enough by now to know better, Satan, I thought this nonsense would stop after your dark baptism.” _

_Zelda hadn’t known better then; though she really should have. All she knew was the fury erupting inside her, fury at being under-stimulated in her Latin class, fury at how this led to the note, but especially at her father and his reaction and treatment. “It’s not my fault **your** professor can’t teach to students of varying abilities. I am beyond the entry level class. If you’d just placed me in the higher level as I asked, this wouldn’t—” _

_She didn’t get a chance to finish, suddenly her throat was tightening, and the rest of her body bound tightly with the spell her father had cast. Strangled gasps worked their way out her mouth and only after several long minutes did her father release her. Zelda collapsed to the ground, chest heaving and limbs weak from the restricted oxygen._

_Her father crouched next to her, “never question me, or another professor, again. We are your betters and you are just a child, and a female one at that. If you continue to cause problems, I will come up with new ways to punish you, understood?” He gripped her chin roughly and forced her to look up at him._

_When she nodded, he released her, with a ‘remember your place’ comment and a vague threat about what would happen if she told her mother or sister before he left the room. Trembling with so many emotions Zelda couldn’t name them, she picked herself up off the floor, glamored away the red handprint on her cheek and made for her room._

_The pattern continued for weeks; the gruff but distant man she’d called her father turned on her every chance he got. It was as if she’d passed some unspoken minimum age for this kind of punishment and now that she had her father dealt it out freely._

_Zelda learned to keep her mouth shut. Did her best to please her father, her siblings had no trouble doing it… then again, why would they? Edward was the golden child; the first-born male prodigy who was pursuing high priestdom and could do no wrong—even when his views differed from tradition. Thomas rarely angered their father either, despite the trouble he was often in. As the second son, the spare to Edward’s heir, Thomas received the same guidance and leniency as their eldest brother. And Hilda, well, Hilda was so much like their mother; sweet, shy, a people-pleaser that never angered anyone… except Zelda. No, her siblings, as far as she knew, did not incur the wrath in their father that she did; so, she dared not go to them for help out of shame and embarrassment. Instead she took her punishments in silence._

_Until a particularly brutal punishment, after which Zelda found herself lying awake that night praying. Praying to Satan, praying to Lilith, to Beelzebub and Mephistopheles and any other form of higher power she could think of to help her make her father stop, to intervene. She hadn’t survived her harrowing only to experience near constant torment at home as well. So, she’d prayed, not that she ever expected anything to come from it._

_Two days later, however, when her father conjured up yet another reason to punish her, something happened. The spell rebounded on him. It’d been another binding spell; the same one he’d used on her the very first time. Only there was no way to stop it, the spell kept going, crushing his throat until he collapsed onto the floor, the spittle on his lips and glaze in his eyes the only external evidence something had happened—the spell hadn’t left any marks, just as he’d designed it._

_Stunned, Zelda wasn’t sure how long she stood there before she realized her prayers had been answered, just not in the way she’d anticipated. She screamed then, knowing it was expected of her to react this way, and part of her was genuine in her response—she’d never wanted her father dead, not exactly. Her family came rushing in._

_The healers called it an aneurysm, nothing else could account for the sudden death of their 'beloved' high priest; Zelda knew the truth. It wasn’t until her mother started to wither away that she realized there was a price to her prayer being answered. Almost a year later, her mother died; a broken heart, the healers claimed, not unheard of among widowed witches; especially ones who’d been with their partner for centuries._

_Once again, though, Zelda knew better. This was her price; her mother. She’d heedlessly thrown prayers into Hell and the abyss for assistance and whatever answered demanded blood as payment. Zelda no longer questioned her feelings concerning her father’s death, she had no regrets; the man was cruel and unfit to lead and in hindsight his extreme and old-fashioned stances for the church were what likely drove Edward in the opposite direction. No, she didn’t regret her father’s death, but she deeply regretted causing her mother’s._

_Deeply regretted not considering the price she’d have to pay, the price her whole family would have to pay, in return for her freedom from her father. The lesson became part of her night terrors, rotating with the events of the Feast of Feasts, her harrowing and so much more._

Sabrina nudged her then, shocking her out of the past and back into the present. “Auntie?” She asked, face now filled with concern and Zelda wondered how long she’d been trapped in her memories. 

Shaking herself, Zelda cleared her throat. “That’s a tale for another night, darling. It’s time to sleep, you’ve got school tomorrow.” 

And the mention of school distracted Sabrina just as Zelda had hoped it would. Because there was no way in Heaven she was telling Sabrina about that dark part of her past, how she’d escaped it… and what it cost. Zelda knew she was being selfish, she didn’t want Sabrina to think less of her; for not being able save herself, for relying on some unknown power which cost her siblings both their parents. 

Sighing heavily, Zelda sang an old lullaby to Sabrina to distract her further. Her niece’s voice mingling with her own for a while before it dropped off as Sabrina fell asleep. Zelda wished her troubled mind could be so easily soothed; knowing her dreams would be filled with her parents, Zelda fell into a fitful sleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

She woke before Sabrina the next morning and edged off the bed carefully before setting an alarm spell that would wake Sabrina in time to get ready for school. Zelda made her way to her own bathroom to get ready for the day—going through her daily routine with her paper and cup of tea. 

Only, when she got downstairs, Sabrina still hadn’t joined them. In her distraction, Zelda let the spoon slip off her saucer and onto the floor. “Blast it,” she muttered, going to set her things down and get a new one. 

“Someone’s having a baby.” Hilda announced, glancing over her shoulder. 

Panic spiked through Zelda at the words, she and Faustus had been careful every time they got together, that and the monthly potion Zelda took should prevent such a thing as a pregnancy. But her sister sometimes had an eerie way of predicting such things, which was why Zelda’s response came out a little more shrill than she intended. “What?!” She cleared her throat, “what is Satan’s name are you talking about, Hilda?” 

Hilda looked at her more fully, eyebrows raised at her reaction. “You know the saying, ‘if a spoon falls, a baby calls.’” At Zelda’s continued look of concern, Hilda added on a quiet, “probably Lady Blackwood’s.” Though it sounded a bit more like a question than a statement. 

“Kindly spare me your old wives’ tales, sister.” Zelda remarked, opening the drawer in front of her for another spoon. Yes, please spare her, because they made her think and wish for things that could never be. 

Frowning, Zelda then returned to the topic that caused her to drop her spoon in the first place. “Where’s Sabrina? Ambrose?” 

“In her room, I believe.” He responded with a slight shrug. 

That wouldn’t do. Sabrina couldn’t hide away forever, and though Zelda knew her girl was still hurting, she couldn’t allow Sabrina to miss school and the academy because of it. “Still?” 

Ambrose turned the page of his book, “yeah, but considering what she’s been through—” 

The comment miffed her, as if Zelda hadn’t been there every step, as if she hadn’t been the one to pick up the pieces. But broken pieces didn’t justify missing school or allowing gossip to start. They couldn’t allow the coven to wonder where Sabrina was, they’d start to ask questions and sooner or later it would come out that she’d resurrected a mortal boy at the expense of a witch. No, they couldn’t allow that. 

So, when Hilda announced that she’d whipped up some of her ‘broken-heart’ balm, well it was a rather perfect solution. She snatched the balm from Hilda and made for the stairs. While she’d coddled Sabrina the past day and a half, there was no time for that now and Zelda knew Hilda wouldn’t be stern enough to get their niece out of bed. 

Striding into Sabrina’s room, Zelda threw open the curtains. “You can’t stay in bed the rest of your life. You have school.” She stated logically, moving around the room and picking through clothes. 

“What if I see him? Or he sees me?” Sabrina murmured in a small voice, “it’ll be too much.” 

Though Zelda wanted to chastise her niece that there were certainly any number of things that would qualify as ‘too much’ and seeing an ex wasn’t one of them, she merely handed Sabrina the balm. “Your Aunt Hilda’s made you a balm. To numb your heart. Rub it in your chest three times daily… or as needed.” She added, though Hilda would likely disapprove. 

“I don’t want to stop feeling. I want to stop hurting.” Zelda smiled softly at her and went back to going through Sabrina’s clothes to find an outfit for the day, holding back the comment that sometimes those things were one in the same. “No, that’s wrong. I want Harvey to stop hurting.” Sabrina added, rolling the balm container between her hands. 

Inclining her head at the sentiment, Zelda remarked how there was no solution for that, or they’d be rich. Her attempt and lightheartedness though, made no difference. 

Sabrina continued to sit on the bed. A quiet, tear-filled, “what am I going to do, Aunt Zee?” Her niece’s only response. 

She stopped shifting through the clothes and faced Sabrina fully. “Today, you’ll go to school, and you’ll talk to your friends, and you’ll sit in class and answer questions.” Zelda came and sat on the bed next to Sabrina, taking her hand and squeezing it reassuringly. “And then you’ll go to the academy. Then you’ll come home… and we’ll eat supper together. And then you’ll go to bed. And your Aunt Hilda or I will sit by your side until you fall asleep. And then tomorrow, you’ll do the same and it will hurt a _tiny_ bit less. And the next day it will hurt even less.” Or so Zelda hoped, she wasn’t quite sure how else to help her girl. 

When Sabrina asked how she could ever face Harvey again, Zelda faltered; uncertain. “I’m not sure,” she murmured, cupping her niece’s cheek. “I’ve never been where you are.” Zelda didn’t feel qualified to give her niece advice on love; on how to overcome pain, yes, she had experience there. But love? Patting Sabrina’s cheek, Zelda put down the clothes she’d selected and made for the door. But her response felt inadequate, so she stopped and turned. “Perhaps you just do, Sabrina. As bravely, and as humbly as you can.” 

Nodding encouragingly, Zelda left and made for the academy, making sure to skirt by Hilda on her way out the door. They’d yet to have a conversation about what Hilda had witnessed the other night, and while Zelda couldn’t avoid her sister forever, she could at least avoid her for today. Eventually, Sabrina would no longer need or want one of her aunties to see her off to sleep and Zelda would be forced to share a bedroom with her sister once more; making it near impossible to dance around the subject any longer. Perhaps she could perform a little memory spell on Hilda, make her forget what she’d seen. 

Zelda teleported to the academy and mulled the idea over as she prepped for her first class. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Hilda heard the front door close and when she hurried into the foyer, she was just in time to see Zelda wink out of sight. Grumbling to herself and thinking of how she could trap Zelda and force her into a conversation, Hilda made her way upstairs to check on Sabrina. 

Though the girl had preferred Zelda’s company over the weekend, reverting back to when she was young and clung to Zelda relentlessly—which Hilda certainly didn’t begrudge her sister, knowing Zelda had been starved of Sabrina’s affection for years—she still wanted to ensure Sabrina was okay. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Zelda to get Sabrina up and ready for school, in actuality she’d probably accomplished it faster than Hilda would have, it was just, she wasn’t sure how gentle Zelda might be. While her sister had great potential for tenderness, Zelda often didn’t express it. Which was how Hilda found herself knocking on Sabrina’s door. 

When Sabrina answered the door, however, her niece was fully dressed, her backpack slung over her shoulder and no hint of tears. “Morning, Auntie.” She murmured, her usual fire still dampened. 

Smiling sympathetically, Hilda led Sabrina back into her room and sat on the bed next to her. “Are you alright, love? Aunt Zelda told you how to use the balm?” 

“Yes, she was, she was very helpful. I do have a question, though.” Sabrina shifted to look at Hilda. “Aunt Zee said she’s never been in my place before. How can that be? Hasn’t she ever lost a love?” 

And the question was so innocent and sweet Hilda’s heart ached. “It’s not really my place to say, lamb. If Zelda didn’t tell you herself…” 

Sabrina adjusted her position on the bed, one leg was tucked underneath her so she could face Hilda fully. “Please, Auntie Hilda, I _need_ to know other people have felt this way.” 

A small scoff escaped Hilda, “of course they have, Sabrina, that doesn’t mean you need to know your Aunt Zelda’s story.” 

“Why would she lie to me?! She promised no more lies.” Sabrina countered, and from the way her eyes welled up a little Hilda could tell the balm hadn’t fully taken effect yet. 

Placing a soothing hand on Sabrina’s knee, Hilda shook her head gently. “I don’t think it was a lie, per se, more like she was protecting herself from painful memories. And besides,” Hilda gently chucked Sabrina under the chin to ensure she had eye contact, “that promise was about your parents, not Aunt Zelda’s relationships.” 

“So, she _has_ lost a love.” Sabrina noted, latching onto the fact that Hilda hadn’t denied Zelda’s past. 

Hilda glanced behind her, ensuring Ambrose wasn’t in sight. Zelda likely hadn’t shared with Sabrina because she didn’t want to appear vulnerable—something Hilda was realizing meant more to her sister than she could ever have imagined; she could still see the scars crisscrossing Zelda’s skin every time she looked at her sister’s back. Sighing, Hilda turned back to Sabrina, figuring a little more insight to her older aunt couldn’t hurt. In fact, it might help Sabrina understand Zelda better and prevent future hurtful outbursts like the other night. 

“When we were in the academy, and even for decades after, your Aunt Zelda had quite a few suitors, guys and gals alike sought her attention. She was quite popular, and Zelda has always been a powerful witch—which draws in admirers as well.” Hilda fiddled with her necklace, wondering how much to reveal and then powered on. “Your father kept a number of these suitors away, mostly because he was overprotective—our parents died when we were young, you see and Edward perhaps took the role of protector a little too seriously. In any case, Zelda wasn’t aware of what he was doing, had she been she’d likely have gone out of her way to be with those specific individuals.” Pausing, Hilda looked out the window. 

Sabrina nudged her gently, “okay, so my dad kept people away, but obviously not everyone.” She lifted a brow, hopeful Hilda would continue. 

Twisting her fingers and reminding herself she was doing this so Sabrina would understand Zelda better, Hilda continued. “Your aunt smiled and laughed a lot when she was younger, and no one was better at making her do those things than your father and after he died, she, her light dimmed, darling. But Faustus Blackwood somehow made it shine again, brighter than I imagined possible.” 

Taken aback, Sabrina made a face. “ _Father Blackwood?_ ” She all but sneered. 

Hilda leveled a look at her niece and Sabrina ducked her head sheepishly. “He, like your Aunt Zelda, has been through quite a bit and is not as carefree as he once was. One could say they are both strict and frustrated with you because of your misadventures. Exorcism and necromancy are no laughing matters.” Hilda finished admonishing Sabrina softly. “I think Zelda and Blackwood have a better understanding of prices and consequences than most, and because of this, they do their best to prevent the occasions that lead to prices needing to be paid. They also understand one another better than most, and I think this draws them together continuously, no matter how they fight it.” She added under her breath. Exhaling, Hilda went on. “And while I didn’t always approve of him, warned him myself what would happen if he hurt Zelda… I could tell he made her happy. So, I let them be, maybe even encouraged your aunt to spend more time with him, to explore or at least acknowledge her feelings. I did this even after… because I could tell he still made her happy…” 

Brow furrowed, Sabrina interrupted her. “Auntie, you’re not talking in full sentences, after what?” 

“I’m getting ahead of myself.” Hilda murmured, shaking her head. “Zelda spent quite a bit of time with Blackwood. I’m almost certain she loved him; even if she refused to admit it to herself. And I _know_ he loved her, he asked me if he could court her formally. I was shocked, of course.” Hilda chuckled, remembering her reaction to his question. “But I was the only family Zelda had left, aside from Ambrose and little you, so it followed tradition.” A frown pulled her lips down as she remembered how distraught Zelda was the day she reappeared in the kitchen so long ago. “I don’t know what happened. Why your Aunt Zelda ended things. But she came home one night, when you were five, very upset. She denied anything was wrong, of course, denied she and Blackwood had ever had a relationship, denied her feelings. But I could tell it all broke Zelda’s heart.” 

Shifting on the bed so her position mirrored Sabrina’s, Hilda took her niece’s hand and squeezed. “Your Aunt Zelda holds herself to near impossible standards. And I think she thought if she pursued something for herself that she’d somehow be letting us down. Regardless of her reasoning, Faustus got engaged to Constance soon after and the suitors returned in force—as if they could smell that Zelda was single again. She entertained a few, but ultimately she spurned them all, claiming they were just trying to fill the power vacuum Edward left behind—I just think her heart wasn’t in it. In any case, Zelda determined her duty was to this family, raising you, and running our businesses—which didn’t leave much time for love. So, your Aunt Zelda has lost love, but I believe she was telling you the truth when she said she’s never been where you are. Zelda left her love, for reasons she’s never shared with me or anyone. Though I think she convinced herself Blackwood’s quick engagement evidenced that she’d done the right thing. Evidenced he never cared for her, let alone loved her. So, in Zelda’s mind, she was being truthful, Sabrina. She doesn’t see your situation as the same, she never thought her love was reciprocated.” 

Chin trembling slightly, Sabrina shook her head. “That’s, that’s awful. Why would she think he didn’t love her? From what you said, it was obvious—” 

“Oh, lamb,” Hilda tucked Sabrina’s hair behind her ear. “Zelda, Zelda may put up this front of all confidence and steel, and while this is mostly true, I think she built it to hide. I think, and don’t you ever repeat this because she’ll kill me,” Hilda pointed a stern finger at Sabrina and her niece nodded earnestly. “I think your auntie is, is rather vulnerable and insecure under all that emotional armor. She loves very hard, don’t you doubt that for a second, but she, I think she has trouble showing it. And, and even more trouble accepting it in return.” Hilda paused and let Sabrina absorb this, because this was the main message she wanted the girl to take away. “So, Zelda snarks, acts like nothing hurts her, holds it all in until—” Trailing off, images of Zelda whipping herself flashed through Hilda’s mind. 

Sabrina shook her head, “so, so she has, has trouble believing people love her?” She whispered, and it was likely only the effects of the balm that kept those tears from spilling over her niece’s eyelids. “And I shouted at her that she wasn’t my mother. That’s, that’s why you yelled at me. Because you knew how much I’d hurt her.” Sabrina added, horrified. 

Biting her lip, Hilda barely suppressed saying she’d greatly underestimated how much Zelda had been hurting, for how long, and the lengths her sister would go to hide it. Instead, she cleared her throat and focused on Sabrina. “Yes, you did say that. And it did hurt your Aunt Zelda, rather deeply.” Her niece should have been old enough to deduce that she’d hurt Zelda on her own, but given the emotional pain Sabrina experienced herself immediately after, Hilda supposed she could forgive the oversight. “You, you weren’t wrong. Neither of us are your biological mother, but we both love—” 

But Sabrina talked over her, “and you guys gave up so much, lost so much because of me!” 

Stunned, Hilda shook her head vigorously and clasped Sabrina’s hands. “Hey now! No. We **never** felt we lost anything because of you. Neither I or your Aunt Zelda ever regretted our choices; taking you in, putting you and this family first.” Hilda was willfully ignoring Zelda’s confession the other night—she knew it came from a place of doubt and insecurity, not regret. “Zelda loves you, sweet, she just has a harder time showing it every now and then.” 

Shooting up from the bed, Sabrina exclaimed, “I have to find her and apologize!” 

Hilda smiled, “I agree. But she’s already left for work and you need to leave for school this instant if you don’t want to be late.” She replied, already ushering her niece towards the stairs. 

Furrowing her brow, Sabrina nodded. “Alright. I’ll come up with a way to tell her.” Sabrina stopped abruptly at the front door, spun and hugged Hilda hard. “Thank you, auntie, for everything.” She murmured, tightening her arms just a bit. “I’m sorry for what I’ve put you through recently. I love you.” 

With that, Sabrina was off out the door and hopping onto her bike and peddling hard down the drive. Dabbing at her tears, Hilda headed for the mortuary office to get some paperwork done before she headed to the bookstore. 

Maybe, maybe this could be a turning point for their family. Maybe it could change their dynamic. Hilda wasn’t sure how they’d fallen into the pattern of Zelda being the disciplinarian of the two of them, it’d happened so long ago Hilda couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment they’d taken on their roles. But she knew it had created a divide between Sabrina and Zelda, where before they’d been inseparable, suddenly there seemed to be this canyon Zelda couldn’t cross no matter how she tried. 

Maybe with this new knowledge, Sabrina would be the one to close the divide where before she’d been the one knocking down every bridge Zelda tried to build. 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

The day passed quite normally, though Zelda had heard several of the students whispering about the resurrection. Of course, nothing ever remained a secret within this blasted coven… at least when there were other witches involved; they’d somehow kept the exorcism quiet and Zelda planned to keep it that way. At least most of the students sounded impressed rather than scandalized by Sabrina’s actions. Glad the day was done; Zelda was locking up her office to leave when a chill ran up her spine. 

She carefully turned and found each of the students looking around, confused and shaking their heads before going back to their business. But Zelda couldn’t brush off the sensation so easily, especially not one strong enough to impact all the witches in her immediate vicinity. 

Hurrying to Faustus’ office, Zelda didn’t bother to knock. “Faustus, did you feel—” She started to ask, only to realize the room was empty. Knowing he never left this early unless he was preparing for Black Mass, Zelda teleported to the church. 

What she found was chaos. Faustus was frantically beating out flames that had somehow erupted on the pulpit, the spells he was shouting having no effect on the fire. Zelda rushed forward and assisted him, together they managed to put the flames out; turning to him, Zelda brushed her hair back. 

“What in Satan’s name was that?!” She demanded a little breathlessly, glancing at the remains at what must have been an unholy bible. 

Shaking his head, Faustus clutched her hand tightly. “An omen.” He muttered, fear sparking in his eyes even if the rest of him remained outwardly calm. “And a dangerous one. We must convene the coven.” He released her hand and turned to the witching board sitting on the table against the back wall and began to mutter a spell and tracing patterns on the surface. A signal to all witches in the area to come to the church at once. 

“I’m bringing Hilda.” Zelda told him when he finished. When Faustus looked ready to argue, Zelda set her jaw and stared him down. “I know you felt it too, that chill up your spine. I did, so did every student at the academy as far as I could tell, though they didn’t have enough sense to realize what it might mean. I will **not** leave my sister out on her own while the rest of the coven convenes. You know I will tell her everything anyway, why waste my time retelling the information when my abilities can be put to better use elsewhere?” 

Distractedly, Faustus nodded his acceptance. “Fine, she can come…” He brought his attention back to her completely. “Whatever this is, Zels, it’s powerful. I’ve never felt anything like it and the Dark Lord is silent. We are alone in facing whatever this threat is.” 

Though she’d long ago abandoned any faith in the Dark Lord, to hear that he’d forsaken their entire coven in their time of need sent fear coursing through her. “I have to find my family…” She murmured, stepping back, shaking slightly. 

Before she could leave, Faustus caught her and tugged her into an embrace, clutching her to him tightly with one hand buried in her hair. “Be back here in 30 minutes.” He ordered, pulling back and rested his forehead against hers, “be safe.” Faustus beseeched, “we don’t know what is out there or when it’s coming.” 

Nodding the best she could with her forehead pressed to his, Zelda stole a quick kiss. “You be safe too. Whatever this is, it has the power to reach within our unholy places and set things on fire. I’d prefer you not be a charred corpse when I return.” 

A morbid chuckle escaped Faustus and he kissed her in return, his lingering longer. “Go. Be quick, be safe.” He released her and started to reinforce the spells surrounding the church as she teleported away. 

~~~~~~~~ 

Praise Satan, Sabrina and Hilda were already home when Zelda got there. Prowling around the room and checking around corners, Zelda turned to them. “Where’s Ambrose?” Sabrina merely shook her head, confused, but there was a fear in Hilda’s eyes that told Zelda she understood the seriousness of what was happening; that she had felt the chill too. 

“I don’t know,” Hilda informed her. “I’ve tried summoning him home, but it didn’t work.” 

Pacing the room, Zelda agitatedly lit a cigarette and took a few puffs. “Alright, alright…” She stopped and faced the others. “You two go to the church, wait for me there. I will see if I can find Ambrose and be along shortly.” 

Hilda shook her head, “Zelds, I’m not allowed—” 

Waving her hand dismissively, Zelda resumed her pacing and took several deep drags of nicotine before stubbing the cigarette out. “I’ve already cleared it with Faustus. Take Sabrina to the church now. Something is coming and I don’t want any of us exposed when it does.” 

Nodding, Hilda cast a spell to keep the food she’d been preparing fresh, wiped her hands and then took Sabrina’s arm to guide her up from the table and out the door. “Come love, no time to waste.” 

But Sabrina pulled back and turned to Zelda, “wait, there’s something I want to talk to you about.” 

Glancing over her shoulder as she pulled candles out of various cabinets and drawers in the kitchen, Zelda gave a tiny shake of her head. “Not now, sweetheart. I need to find Ambrose and you two need to be safely at the church. _Go._ ” 

When Sabrina still resisted Hilda’s tug on her arm, with a pleading, “please Auntie, it’s important.” Zelda turned around completely; arms full of candles. 

“I’m sure it is, but Sabrina it _has_ to wait. Go. Now.” She dropped a kiss onto the top of her niece’s head as she walked into the parlor to set up her ring for astral projecting. “Hilda.” She instructed, knowing her sister would understand from that one word that she needed to take Sabrina immediately. 

And without turning around she sensed her sister take Sabrina’s arm once more and teleport away. Two out of three wasn’t bad, but she preferred to know the whereabouts of her entire family when a threat came. 

Sighing, Zelda quickly set up her circle and laid in the middle to project. Though once in the astral plane, she couldn’t find Ambrose. He wasn’t at the academy where he’d been spending so much of his time. He wasn’t at Dr. Cee’s where Luke liked to get coffee, he wasn’t at Luke’s apartment either—she even checked the church in case Luke had intercepted the signal Faustus sent out and dragged Ambrose there with him. Nothing. Even when she focused on him all she got was a gray mist. 

Zelda broke the spell and stood anxiously, spinning her rings and trying to think of where Ambrose might be. And though Hilda had already tried, Zelda attempted to summon Ambrose home. She focused on her nephew, visualized him appearing in front of her and muttered the words. But she found her spell blocked. Blocked by something more powerful than she imagined. Blocked by a magical signature which matched the one that had sent the chill up her spine not even an hour before. 

True panic was starting to settle in now, because whatever was out there…. It was likely it had Ambrose in some capacity. Why else wouldn’t she be able to find him on the astral plane? Why else wouldn’t she or Hilda be able to summon him home? 

Waving a hand, the candles on the ground snuffed out. She couldn’t figure this out herself, Zelda needed to bring it before the coven and get their help. She teleported to the church, landing about 15 feet away, and good thing. Witches were crashing into one another in their haste to answer the signal Faustus sent out, completely forgetting the teleportation protocol that would prevent such collisions. 

That didn’t matter now, Zelda hurried inside, pushing past the others and searching the crowd fruitlessly for Ambrose, just in case he’d somehow appeared there since she last checked; he hadn’t. Heart clenching, Zelda found her family and sat on the other side of Sabrina, automatically wrapping an arm around her girl. 

Leaning around Sabrina, Zelda whispered to Hilda what she’d discovered. Her sister paled, but before she had a chance to respond, Faustus called the meeting to order. 

“Brothers and Sisters, tonight I witnessed an omen. As so many of you did. A horrifying sign that could only portend one thing.” He went on to proclaim that Satan was aware of their actions, their weaknesses, their flaunting of the law and intended to punish them for it. Zelda couldn’t help but feel responsible for the doom descending upon the coven. It had been her family’s doing these past weeks that likely brought this down on them all. 

Before she could go further down that particular hole, though, the doors of the church were thrown open with a bang; causing the entire coven to jump and Zelda knew she wasn’t alone in barely restraining the spell on her lips. 

It was Ambrose. 

Zelda exhaled quietly in relief; he was safe. Her nephews next words, though, meant her relief was short lived. 

“Father Blackwood!” He exclaimed breathlessly, striding in with Luke hot on his heels. “It is _not_ the Dark Lord’s wrath that has come for us, it is… the Greendale Thirteen.” 

Luke nodded fiercely in agreement. “We stumbled upon them in the woods. They were performing some kind of ritual.” He panted, “a summoning spell.” 

Eyes wide and clearly shaken, Ambrose spoke again, “they bore into our minds. Bewitched us.” He glanced at Luke, “we’re only alive because they wanted us to deliver a message.” 

Zelda forced herself to remain seated when all she wanted to do was hug her nephew. Ambrose, Ambrose had almost died tonight? Her vision blurred along the edges and magic sparked along her fingers in anger. Whatever it was, whatever had threatened her nephew, it would pay. 

Murmurs broke out among the coven, many shifting nervously. Faustus, somehow, remained at least externally calm. “What message? Spit it out.” 

However, as Ambrose told them what happened, he spoke of a Crimson Avenger and how he would ride within a few hours time. Zelda blinked, these words must surely be from the Thirteen themselves, the ones they placed in her boy’s mind when they burrowed in; Ambrose would never have used such obtuse language in a situation like this. 

Inpatient, Zelda couldn’t keep quiet. “Who rides, Ambrose? What are you talking about?” She demanded, the arm she had around Sabrina tightening. 

Holding aloft a small wooden horse with a rider, Ambrose shakily informed them it was the Red Angel of Death. “The Thirteen will knock down all the doors in town for him, and in his wake, the firstborns of Greendale, both mortal and witch alike, **will perish**!” 

Panic swept through the room, and Zelda found her heart suddenly lodged in her throat as she scooted unconsciously closer to Sabrina—though her eyes remained locked on Ambrose where he stood in the middle of the aisle. 

Her two firstborns. Her kids were on the chopping block. Zelda barely heard what Faustus said next, the pounding of her heart in her ears too loud. Like Heaven she’d allow some angel of death touch Ambrose or Sabrina… over her dead body. 

Faustus went on to explain he would protect the coven, they’d hide within the academy behind the already existing spells, that, in addition to their combined magic, would hold the Thirteen at bay. It was a good plan, since it was not the Dark Lord himself coming for them, they could, in theory, protect themselves and survive the night with relative ease. 

But Zelda already knew she wouldn’t be in the academy with the others. Where she’d failed to predict Sabrina’s actions when it came to the resurrection, she could clearly see what her niece would do in this instance. Sabrina would risk the Thirteen and the Red Angel in an attempt to save her mortal friends. 

Her suspicions were confirmed when Sabrina stood up, not even a moment later, and asked what would happen to the people of Greendale, the mortal firstborns. Faustus twisted his lips and dismissed them, understandably, he had the entire coven to protect and mortals had never done them any favors. He couldn’t waste resources that should be spent protecting his own people on the protection of mortals. 

Which meant, Zelda sighed and pulled Sabrina back down into the pew next to her, that the Spellman family wouldn’t only be protecting a few mortal friends tonight… but the entire town of Greendale. Well, it threw a slight wrench into her plans, but Zelda was sure she could come up with something that would appease her niece **and** and keep them all safe. 

When they returned home, still having a few hours until the Thirteen and Red Angel descended upon them, they all settled into the kitchen without a word. Well, except for Sabrina, who was asking why the Thirteen would even be angry at witches. 

Already on her second cigarette since they’d left the church, Zelda peered out the window as if expecting one of the ancient and betrayed witches to be roaming the yard. “It’s a bloody mess, what happened to the Greendale Thirteen. The most ignoble chapter of the Church of Night’s history.” 

As she, Hilda and Ambrose took turns filling in a piece of witching history for Sabrina, Zelda’s heart felt heavy. It’d been a dark time for the coven; sacrificing a few to save the many. Or so their ancestors had justified. The thought that the coven had left the witches to be tortured and killed sickened Zelda every time she thought of it—though she wouldn’t even be born for close to two centuries after the women met their fates. The abandonment of the Thirteen was horrendous and their demise had only strengthened the enforcement of the law separating witching and mortal kind. 

And yet, despite this bloody history with the mortals, here Zelda was plotting to protect the ancestors of the very mortals who’d condemned the Thirteen in the first place. 

When Sabrina started to climb onto her soapbox, proclaiming how she wouldn’t let anything happen to her friends and Zelda shouldn’t try to stop her, Zelda cut her off—too tired for another one of her niece’s self-righteous rants when Zelda was already on her side **and** ahead of her. 

“On the contrary, I think we should all stay and protect the town.” She announced, turning away from the window to finally face her family. And their disbelieving reactions to her declaration stung a bit, but Zelda powered on through her explanation. “The Greendale Thirteen were sacrificed so that the pack might survive. But we need not make the same mistake again. _We are Spellmans._ That means we stand tall, with dignity, and we do what is right.” 

The plan proceeded easily enough from there, though Zelda was slightly concerned by how excited Ambrose was to create a tornado, she let it pass. The spell was simple and soon the sirens for the town were blaring. 

No, this wasn’t the part that worried her. What worried her was holding off the Red Angel. But, as Ambrose prepared for the tornado, Zelda had prepared a way to hold the mortal school against the assault. The spell she tweaked and enhanced was by no means perfect, but with the four of them combined, it should work… just barely. 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Faustus’ eyes swept over the crowd in the entrance of the academy, his coven was milling around, chatting nervously. But Faustus was confident that with their combined magic and effort they could repel the Thirteen and the Red Angel with little issue. 

Just then, Luke approached him, informing him everyone had checked in and was accounted for… save the Spellman family. 

Fear and anger sang through him, and Faustus clenched the railing and struggled to keep a neutral expression; while his wife may know of his affections for a certain Spellman matriarch, there was no reason to reveal this to anyone else. 

For the love of Lucifer, why couldn’t Zelda and her family listen _for once_?! Though he knew Zelda wasn’t a first born, she was still very much in danger. Faustus knew she would put herself between her niece and nephew and the threat that was hunting them; and that would only end in death. 

This had to be Sabrina’s doing… Zelda would never endanger her family by keeping them exposed during such a threat unless she thought Sabrina would try something otherwise. Which was likely the case, the girl probably refused to retreat to the safety of the academy as long as the mortals were at risk. 

And given Sabrina’s recent dangerous actions, Zelda decided to beat the girl to the punch, telling her family they’d work as a unit to protect Greendale. It was smart, trying to get ahead of her niece, who surely would have plunged in headfirst without any sort plan—endangering herself and others in the process. 

So, though he was tempted to summon them to the academy right then and there, Faustus restrained himself. Zelda was doing the what she thought was best, he wouldn’t interfere like he had with the resurrected mortal boy; no matter how badly he wanted Zelda by his side, wanted her safe. 

Relaxing his grip on the railing, Faustus sent Luke away to start the preparations and glanced at Constance—she was sweating profusely, and her skin had taken on a greyish hue. She hadn’t left the house since shortly after the Feast of Feasts debacle, and the routine and closed environment had done wonders for her hysteria. Now though, he could tell she was panicking, only every concern she had this time was valid—though it was likely amplified by the stress and pregnancy. 

Quietly, Faustus suggested she go lay down in the infirmary. Hopefully once she was away from the crowd, in a more confined and controlled environment, she would relax. Constance nodded and wandered off down the hall and when he glanced at the clock, Faustus realized the time had almost come. 

Sending up a desperate prayer to keep Zelda safe, Faustus went downstairs to join the rest of the coven. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Preparing the school on such short notice had been no easy feat, but as the clocked ticked closer to midnight, Zelda felt at least ready for the assault. And, as she’d reassured her family several times already, it was highly unlikely that more than five of the Thirteen would attack Baxter High. 

If the Thirteen reacted as Zelda anticipated, a majority would go after the academy, needing greater power to break through there than anywhere else. This would mean four or five witches would come after the mortal school, leaving one or two to roam the town freely looking for stragglers who’d failed to heed the warning. 

Zelda prayed she was right, though Spellmans were strong, she wasn’t sure they would be able to hold back more than five witches and the Red Angel at the same time. It was too late to second guess now, taking a deep breath as the second hand ticked over the 12 on the clock, her family started to chant. 

Almost immediately the doors began to rattle. Zelda tentatively reached out feelers to determine what they were up against… praise Satan, it was only four. Exhaling in relief, Zelda rejoined her voice with the others and gripped their hands tightly—they would survive this yet. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Faustus exited the incantation circle and moved around the coven as they continued to chant, looking for anyone who needed a rest; it wouldn’t do to have someone tired and making mistakes. He was doing his best to ignore the rattling of the door, knowing that the six witches outside would like nothing more than for him and the coven to lose focus just enough for them to slip in. 

Just then, an alarm spell went off in his head, the one he’d set to alert him to when Constance went into labor. Eyes going wide, Faustus hurried to the infirmary, praying to Satan it was a false labor. When he arrived though, Constance was writhing in pain, grunts of pain and aborted screams escaping her clenched teeth. 

“Faustus,” she gasped, “something’s wrong.” Constance’s eyes were wild and filled with fear. 

Placing a hand on her shoulder, he tried to reassure her. “Our babes will be fine. I will be back momentarily.” He nodded jerkily at her before rushing out of the room and into the hallway. Concentrating hard, Faustus pictured Zelda in front of him and muttered the spell hastily. While he’d reluctantly let her be before—knowing she was doing what she must for her family—he had no choice now, his children were at risk. 

She appeared before him with a loud gasp. 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

Zelda swayed, disoriented; unplanned teleportation would do that to a witch. A pair of hands were immediately on her hips, gripping them hard to steady her. 

Blinking, Zelda took in her surroundings, she was at the academy? No, no, no, this was all wrong. It was only when the hands on her hips squeezed that Zelda focused on who they belonged to. “Faustus, you brought me here?” She asked breathlessly. 

“Thank Satan you’re safe,” he murmured, one hand coming up to her cheek. “Yes, Zelda I—” 

Barely listening to his reply, Zelda spoke over him. “I **have** to go back. My family needs me.” She pulled away from him, desperate. The family she’d convinced not to take the protection of the coven, the family now in imminent danger from the worst threat in Greendale in centuries. The family now a member short in maintaining a four-witch spell…. They were all in danger because of her. 

Faustus grabbed her hands though, “your sworn duty is here, Zelda!” He shouted, recapturing her attention. 

Shaking him off, Zelda backed away. “My duty is to _my family_.” She retorted and tried to teleport away only to receive a jolt. Confused, she paced the hallway, trying to find a sweet spot; teleportation could be like cell service sometimes, certain spots working better than others. 

He tried to catch her arm, but Zelda shoved him away, she had to reach them. Ambrose was a first born, Sabrina was. And even if Hilda was the youngest Spellman sibling and in no danger from the Red Angel, if the Thirteen managed to break into the school her sister would be killed for protecting mortals. 

Only, she couldn’t return. When Zelda reached for the magic necessary to leave, she was blocked and received another jolt of electricity. 

Looking at her beseechingly, Faustus pressed his mouth into a thin line. “You cannot leave, Zelda. I’ve temporarily anchored you to the academy.” When she rounded on him, the air crackling with unchecked power and anger, he was quick to add. “Lady Blackwood has gone into labor.” He grabbed her shoulders and spun her partially so she could see the woman through the window to the infirmary. “You _cannot_ leave until you’ve helped her birth the babes. Please, Zelda.” 

“What about **my** children?!” She demanded, voice hoarse with panic, as she faced him once more. 

Faustus dipped his head, “I’m sorry, Zels, but yours have abilities, they have Hilda. I even believe Mary Wardwell is at the mortal school.” She scoffed at the mention of the woman, but he pushed on. “They have help. No one can help my children but you.” 

“Damn you, Faustus.” Her voice trembled slightly with rage. He was right, she couldn’t leave, not while she was tethered to the academy. Something she would have felt and realized immediately had she not been consumed by fear for her family. 

Well, the sooner she delivered these babies the sooner she could return to her family. But, she vowed to herself, if anything, _anything_ happened to her family while she was away—she’d make him pay for it dearly. High priest or not and their history be damned. 

Shedding her coat, Zelda pushed past him and into the infirmary. “I’ll need clean towels, fresh water and Prudence.” She ordered, tossing her coat aside and rolling up the sleeves of her dress. 

“Prudence?” He repeated, trailing after her uncertainly. 

“Yes. I’ll need help,” she spat, and she didn’t trust anyone else in the coven. But the girl, the girl she’d just helped save from the Feast, the one who’d recently lost a little bit of her faith… well, she was someone Zelda could at least depend on, if not trust. “This is no place for a man. And that very much includes you.” Faustus looked at her for a moment, stunned, before whirling away and out the door to get what she needed. 

She spun around and gave her full attention to Constance, already sensing something was wrong. 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

No, this wasn’t right. All the signs pointed at twin _boys_. But Constance had been carrying a boy and **a girl** — which wouldn’t have been a concern, except the girl had come first into the world. Pacing, Zelda ran her hands through her hair while Prudence watched her in confusion. 

They’d already lost Constance, there’d been far too much blood. Far too much, she’d known that even before Prudence whispered it to her after the first babe was born. And even with her immense skills and experience, Zelda hadn’t been able to save the poor woman. If she’d had time to prepare, if she’d had her kit, her potions and charms, had the twins come on time, if she’d been able to deliver the babes during any other time than when the Red Angel was breathing down their necks, then maybe she might have been able to save Constance…. Maybe. 

But it didn’t do to dwell on what couldn’t be changed. Zelda needed to decide what to do about the babes. 

Crossing her arms, Prudence leaned against the desk against the far wall. “Why not just tell him the boy was born first?” She asked when Zelda held her back from going to fetch her father. 

“Because there are potions and spells that reveal which child was born first and Faustus will do both in front of the coven to prove to them his son came first and is the rightful heir. And what do you think will happen to us if it is revealed in front of the coven that we lied to him?” Zelda arched a brow at Prudence, who inclined her head in acknowledgement. “No, something else must be done.” 

Pushing off the desk, Prudence came to hover over the crib containing the babes. “What do we do then? How do we protect her?” Relief flooded through Zelda that she didn’t have to explain why they needed to protect the babe; Prudence already well aware of how the coven could treat unwanted little girls. 

A small smile formed on Zelda’s lips, “do you know knock-out spells?” 

Taken aback, Prudence blinked. “What?” 

Huffing, Zelda faced the teen full on. “Do you know how to knock someone out with a spell? Quickly, with no time lapse.” 

“Of course.” Prudence replied, tone slightly scornful at the suggestion she might not know the spell. 

With a curt nod and a final look at the babies, Zelda stepped into the middle of the room, ready to intercept Faustus. “Good, go. Fetch your father, I have a potential solution. But if he rejects it, I’ll need you to knock him out and I’ll adjust his memory. Understood?” 

Prudence took a moment then nodded, “yes.” And then she was gone, out the door to collect Faustus. 

Moments later, Faustus came barreling into the room, face pale and eyes wide. He barely spared a glance at his wife’s corpse in the bed and made straight for the crib. “The children?!” He asked, striding over. 

“Are healthy and alive.” Zelda informed him, stepping in front of him to slow him down. “Though, there was a complication.” She added, stepping aside now and allowing Faustus to approach the crib. 

There was a loaded pause before Faustus spoke. “A girl? But the signs…” he trailed off, turning partially to Zelda in confusion. 

Shrugging slightly, Zelda held up her hands. “I was just as surprised as you,” she murmured. 

He nodded and shifted to face his children once more, a hand reaching out for the boy to grasp while the other hovered uncertainly over the girl. “I assume she was born first and that is the complication.” Faustus noted, lowering his hand all the way to it rested gently on the girl’s stomach. 

“Yes.” She saw no reason to lie to him, not yet. 

Sighing, Faustus glanced at her. “What do I do?” 

Though she knew it wasn’t a viable option, Zelda couldn’t help herself. “Claim the girl as your heir and first born.” She offered boldly, though she felt a twinge of guilt when Prudence flinched at the declaration. 

Faustus hesitated and looked back to the babes. “Zelda, I—” 

Anger rumbled through her, “it truly means that much to you. Having a _male_ heir?” 

His head snapped up to look at her, startled. “It’s, it’s what I’ve been told my entire life, Zels. And then when I became high priest… it’s all but written in our unholy bible that I pass along my work to a son. The Dark Lord, he, he…. But now I—” Faustus faltered, his eyes drawn back to the babies, lingering on his daughter. “I don’t know how to proceed.” He admitted quietly, “the coven will want me to prove which child was born first, and you know better than I those spells and potions cannot be faked.” 

Zelda exhaled in relief, glad she didn’t have to go with plan B and even feeling a little guilty for thinking she might need it. Clearing her throat, she came to stand next to him at the crib. “Tell the coven your late wife only gave birth to one child. Your son. That, while rare, he consumed his twin in the womb. The strong being fortified by the weak, as our Dark Lord prefers.” 

Shaking his head, Faustus looked at her. “And what would happen…” 

“I’ll take her. Raise her.” 

Faustus’ eyes filled with emotion and he placed a hand on her forearm, thumb stroking along her skin. “Zelda, though I’ve often wished…” He stopped himself and gave her a small smile. “I couldn’t ask.” 

She swallowed at the aborted sentence and chose to ignore it; Prudence was still in the room after all. “You’re not asking, I’m offering. Should you keep her, your position as high priest would be weakened. The coven questioning why you kept a girl as your first born.” It was a cruel observation, but a true one. 

Rage flashed across Faustus’ face and his hand left her arm to trace his daughter’s cheek. “I _don’t care_ what the coven—” 

“You should.” Zelda cut in. “Your daughter would be in constant danger from those who wished your son to be the only heir. I know what it’s like to raise a child the coven does not approve of. How the threats hovered over her. How they came for her.” Zelda looked at him imploringly, “do you want that kind of life for your daughter?” 

Stubborn as ever, Faustus did not relent. “I’d protect her. Sabrina never knew of the danger; she grew up feeling safe. Why should my daughter be any different? I’d provide the same safety.” He growled, eyes sparking. 

Touching his arm, Zelda nodded. “I know,” she acknowledged softly. “And how long do you think the coven will follow you after you do? Do you not recall how half the coven reacted when I protected Sabrina from those women?” 

“I remember half were in awe of you.” Faustus countered, purposely ignoring how the other half had shunned her; even acted hostile to an extent—though the example Zelda had set kept them from acting on anything. 

Spinning her rings anxiously, Zelda rested her hip against the crib and faced him. “Faustus, it’s not just the coven. It’s the Dark Lor—” 

“I know.” Faustus interrupted, though his tone was less defensive. “The Dark Lord demands a first-born male heir and I haven’t produced one. He will punish me for it if he somehow found out.” 

Zelda’s eyes widened at his phrasing, **if** the Dark Lord found out? Did that mean… 

Heaving a sigh, Faustus scooped up the little girl and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “She couldn’t ask for a better mother.” He breathed, carefully handing the babe over. 

Tears pricked her eyes as she took the child, it was the highest praise she could ever have imagined; Zelda did her best to hide her reaction by busying herself with the babe in her arms. When she brought her eyes back to his, though, Faustus was still looking at her tenderly. 

Framing her face, Faustus leaned in and kissed her cheek before resting his forehead against hers. “Thank you,” he murmured, then he suddenly stepped back, waved a hand and Zelda found herself at home. 

As she reappeared, Zelda heard the chiming of the clock indicating that it was 1 AM, witching hour was over. It struck her then, what she’d been doing before she’d been swept up into an emergency delivery. The births and subsequent scheming had distracted her from the fact that she’d essentially abandoned her family in their time of need. 

Hurriedly, Zelda went upstairs, conjured Sabrina’s old crib, settled the child inside it and then set Hilda’s familiars on guard. She then laid down to astral project to find the rest of her family. They had to be safe; they had to be. 

She located Sabrina first, honing in by imagining her niece. But Sabrina was nowhere near the school, she was coming out of the woods and, and her hair was another color? Zelda was stunned but her girl seemed unscathed so Zelda would question it later. 

Next, she found Ambrose. Only he wasn’t at the mortal school either, but at the academy with Luke. The other boy must have summoned Ambrose there like Zelda had been. Well, at least he was safe. 

But then she panicked, realizing Hilda had been left alone to uphold a four-witch spell against the Thirteen and Red Angel on her own. Zelda knew her sister was strong—all Spellmans were—but Hilda’s strength wasn’t in spell casting. It was in potions, brews, tinctures and charms. It was in that encyclopedia in her head of how to counter curses and hexes with natural remedies. 

Zelda quickly found her sister, she was safe. Though Hilda was a paler than usual, a little shaky and clearly exhausted, she was safe. She’d held off a group of ancient witches and the Red Angel on her own and Zelda felt a swell of pride. She stopped herself from going up and congratulating her sister right then, the odd mortal from the bookstore was walking with her. It could wait, exhaling once more in relief, Zelda returned to her body, her heart lighter than it had been in a while. 

Her family was safe. 

Her family which now extended to another child. Standing, Zelda picked up the girl just as she started to whimper in hunger and headed down to the kitchen to feed her. As she was walking through the foyer, a knock on the front door had her freezing. Cautiously, Zelda crept to the door and checked through the peephole. She opened it, “Prudence?” 

“How is she?” The young witch attempted a bored tone, but her presence told a far different story. 

“Hungry.” Zelda replied, already turning and heading to the kitchen, leaving the door open for Prudence to follow. Thankfully, Hilda had all the ingredients for infant formula; it’d been something they’d prepped just in case Constance hadn’t been able to produce enough milk. She moved around the kitchen and prepared the bottle one-handed, the infant cradled in her other arm… Zelda found herself reluctant to put the babe down. 

Prudence perched herself on the kitchen table and watched as Zelda moved around the room. “What will you tell the coven?” 

Only half paying attention, Zelda glanced over her shoulder at the young witch. “Hmm?” 

“The coven,” Prudence repeated, lifting a brow. “You can’t just show up with a baby. Not at the same time as Father Blackwood, especially when he was supposed to have twins.” She added, inspecting her nails and trying far too hard to appear uninterested. 

Zelda smirked, she knew Prudence was capable of a better mask. And it pleased her the girl was already so invested in her half-sister that she couldn’t manage a proper front. Examining the bottle and deeming it ready, Zelda began to feed the babe and turned to face Prudence. “What do you think I should tell them?” She asked, though she had a plan, Zelda had never been one to pass up a teaching moment. 

A surprised look flitted across Prudence’s face before she schooled it back into a bored expression. She clearly hadn’t expected for her thoughts on the matter to be considered. Despite this, Prudence wasted no time in making a suggestion. “She’s your nephew’s bastard. Would help explain the coloring should she take more after her mother.” Prudence leaned back and rested her hands on the table, letting her legs swing slightly. “And, well, the coven knows Ambrose and his wide variety of… tastes.” She smirked, “it wouldn’t be difficult to believe he’d knocked some witch up.” 

“And why would she leave the babe with Ambrose?” Zelda asked, pulling the bottle away to check the formula level before feeding the babe once more. 

Running her tongue over her teeth, Prudence thought a moment and then her eyes lit up. “She was ashamed. Hadn’t realized he was housebound and didn’t want to be kicked out of her own coven. So, she left the babe here and took off.” 

Zelda arched a brow, somewhat impressed. The idea had merit, but there were still large holes in the tale that she knew some of the coven members would probe. “When was my housebound nephew supposed to have met this witch? Especially one from another coven.” 

Prudence scowled but kept thinking. “A funeral.” She stated, looking rather smug. “The witch came to support a grieving friend, grew bored during the proceedings and caught Ambrose’s eye. And so it goes.” The girl was practically preening when she finished, plainly proud of herself. 

“What would we tell Ambrose?” Zelda asked pointedly. 

The smug look faltered, “what?” 

Checking the bottle again, Zelda set it down, grabbed a dish towel and started to burp the baby. “Your plan hinges on Ambrose going along with it. On him stating he knocked a girl up and accepting the child as his. How do you suggest we get him on board?” 

“Why do I have to figure that out? You took the baby, it’s _your_ problem.” Prudence stood, evidently irritated Zelda kept finding problems with her idea. 

Cocking her head in acknowledgment, Zelda gave Prudence a meaningful look. “Perhaps, but you were in the room as well, Prudence. The whole coven witnessed Faustus retrieving you to assist me. Whatever happens to me will happen to you too should this ever come out. While I am the one caring for her, you are just as culpable.” 

Prudence’s features twisted with rage, “but we did it to protect her!” 

“Indeed, and if anyone finds out what we did we can only hope to have such a quick end as they would have given the baby. Which is why our story must be perfect.” Zelda remarked, still patting the babe on the back. 

Chewing on her lip, Prudence sat back down. “We could tell your nephew the truth. You’re his aunt, he’ll listen to you.” 

The little one burped and then snuggled into Zelda’s chest, making Zelda smile warmly. “A valid idea, but… there are too many variables to try and control.” 

Prudence eyed her dubiously for a moment before her expression softened as if she’d realized what Zelda didn’t want to say. That should Ambrose claim the girl, she couldn’t be the mother… it would be another child she raised but another that would never call her mother or see her as one. Praise Satan Prudence felt no compulsion to voice her observation. Instead she merely nodded, “what did you have in mind then?” 

“A young witch from another coven had been on the run, attempting to hide her pregnancy from an abusive partner. She was making her way here, having heard from someone that the Spellmans were once midwives.” Zelda began, swaying side to side to lull the babe to sleep. “But she gave birth before she could make it, there were complications, hemorrhaging. It was too late for her by the time she got here, but the witch begged me to hide her child from her partner. She had no other family and refused to name the coven she belonged to in fear the child would be returned to the father against her wishes. I agreed to keep the child and the mother passed on.” 

It was a morbid tale, but one the coven would believe. Even if there were those who doubted, Zelda could drudge up a body from the cemetery—this was one of those rare instances Zelda was grateful she ran a mortuary. And she doubted anyone would question or challenge her adoption of the child. 

Cocking her head, Prudence mulled the idea over, turning it over in her head looking for holes. After a minute or two, she nodded. “Seems sound. If you need assistance, I can help babysit.” She offered, once more trying hard to appear unattached to her sister, who’s situation mirrored her own to an extent. 

Zelda hid a smile, “I would appreciate the help.” She admitted, peering down at the little bundle in her arms and recalling that it’d been over a decade since she’d cared for a baby. “How will we explain it though? Seems a bit convenient that the two of us were in the delivery room when Faustus learned he only had one child instead of two, then I adopt one **and** you help care for her.” 

“You’ll be teaching several language courses next term, yes?” Prudence asked, picking at imaginary lint on her skirt. 

Impressed, Zelda raised a brow, “yes, though not even the other faculty know of that yet. How do you—” 

Smirking, Prudence just shrugged. “I have my ways.” She replied cryptically. “Regardless, I will sign up for one I am already fluent in, though I will claim I need extra tutoring. This will give me an excuse to be here or in your office. And I wouldn’t have to worry about the coursework, as I’m familiar with the language and I assume you would be a… lenient grader.” 

The solution was simple yet effective. “Very clever,” Zelda commended, smiling in approval and she didn’t miss how Prudence’s mouth twitched up as she tried to hide a smile of her own. “Now, you should be getting back to the academy. They will be doing bed checks soon and it wouldn’t do for you to be missing on the night the Thirteen and the Red Angel roamed our little town.” 

As Prudence stood to leave, she paused, her gaze lingering on Zelda and the baby. 

“Yes, Prudence?” 

Starting slightly, Prudence blinked back to attention. “Hmm?” 

“You have something on your mind. Say it or leave, staring is rude.” Zelda remarked, not taking her eyes off the bundle in her arms. 

When Prudence remained silent, Zelda lifted her eyes to look at the young witch and for a moment it seemed as though she’d leave without a word. Then, the ‘weird sister’ shield dropped entirely and suddenly a young girl was standing in front of her. 

Swallowing, Prudence looked at something behind Zelda instead of making eye contact. “I was just thinking; I wish someone like you had been around when I was born… to take me in.” Stunned, Zelda took a step towards Prudence. But before she could say anything, Prudence shook herself and the walls were back up as quickly as they’d fallen. “I will speak with Father Blackwood tomorrow about signing up for one of your language courses as well as ‘private tutoring’ sessions. I don’t see him having any objections.” And with a curt nod, Prudence teleported away. 

With a sigh, Zelda made her way back upstairs to settle the babe in her new crib. It wasn’t much, but she’d made some progress with Prudence tonight. The young woman was clearly in need, and wanted, a parental figure in her life. Faustus was something to Prudence, she’d stated herself that he treated her as a daughter… but it hadn’t been enough. Hopefully, with time and patience, she could help guide the girl—Zelda sensed that Prudence was quite a bit like her and would be easier to guide than her often wayward niece. 

Carefully opening her bedroom door with a twitch of her fingers, Zelda entered the room humming a quiet lullaby even though the babe was already asleep. She’d barely settled the child in her crib when Hilda came bustling into the room, oddly cheerful considering their close call for the night. 

Interrupting her sister’s babble, Zelda cleared her throat. “Hilda.” 

“Yes?” She intoned, practically glowing much to Zelda’s confusion. 

Well, there was no beating around the bush, taking a fortifying breath, Zelda stepped aside from where she’d been blocking the cradle from view. “I’ve done something rather impulsive.” 

She nearly laughed at herself, impulsive was hardly the word for it. While Zelda knew she and Faustus had made the right decision to hide the child, hiding her in the Spellman house under Zelda’s care was reckless to a degree. But Hilda was here now, Hilda would reassure her she’d done the right thing. Would reassure her that just because she’d failed in raising Sabrina did not mean she would fail again. 

When her sister saw the child, though, her eyes went comically round. “You made a magic baby?” 

“Of course not,” Zelda replied taken aback by the question, though from the high pitch of the question Zelda could tell her sister was simply wishing that were the case. 

Shaking her head, Hilda backed away, clearly overwhelmed. “I’m moving out.” 

Zelda blinked, the words a slap to the face. “What?” She whispered, hand coming to her stomach; was her sister abandoning her at last? 

“Out of this room.” Hilda clarified, still backing away. “It’s time I had my own room.” She turned and walked out of the room, not even waiting for Zelda to explain. 

Casting a quick protection and alarm spell on the babe so she’d be alerted if the girl woke, Zelda followed her sister. “She’s, she’s one of Faustus’ twins.” 

Not bothering to spare Zelda a glance, Hilda entered Edward’s old room which they’d been using for storage. “I gathered _that_ much,” she scoffed. 

“I didn’t steal her!” Zelda exclaimed, needing to explain, needing Hilda to understand, to approve, to at least look at her. 

All that greeted her was a snort as Hilda waved her hands and the room began to rearrange itself. 

Desperate, Zelda took a few more steps into the room, ignoring the pain that shot through her as several of Edward’s old possessions floated past her. “She was born first, Hilda. You know how the coven is when it comes to female first-borns, especially when the father holds a position of power. You know how the Dark Lord can be. She would have been in danger. Faustus agreed, he—” 

“Blackwood knows you have her?” Hilda interrupted, finally turning to look at her. 

“Of course,” she retorted indignantly, pretending she hadn’t planned on snatching the girl if Faustus reacted poorly to the news. “We agreed the coven, and possibly the Dark Lord, would come after the girl—like they did for Sabrina. We agreed it would be safer if they didn’t know she existed and since the Dark Lord isn’t all-seeing, it—” 

Hilda held up a hand to cut her off, “wait, what do you mean, _like they came for Sabrina_? What are you talking about?” 

Mouth opening and closing, Zelda’s mind blanked. In her desperation to make Hilda understand and support her, Zelda had given away a secret she’d kept for over a decade. To buy herself some time, Zelda just hummed. 

Nose scrunching in anger, Hilda shook her head. “Don’t you do that. You meant what you said, now explain it to me.” She demanded, voice hard and unrelenting. 

Sighing, but knowing it would only further justify her decision to take the babe in, Zelda explained. “Do, do you remember, when Sabrina was two, and we had those intruders?” 

Her sister ran her hands through her hair and rubbed her temples, her tell for when she was stressed or overwhelmed. “Of course, they were thieves. What does that have to do with…” Hilda trailed off as she made the connection. “No,” she breathed, taking a step back, hands falling to her sides. “They came for Sabrina?” 

Zelda nodded, “they saw her as a risk. Thought she’d expose us to the mortals and needed to be disposed of. Or at least that was the only reason they gave me… I know they came because of Sabrina’s duality as well, they viewed her as an abomination that needed to be scourged from the realms. I… dissuaded them.” 

“By, by taking off their fingers…” Hilda looked faint for a moment as the memory resurfaced. “Zelda, why didn’t you tell me?! Tell me about the dangers in our own coven, in our own home! I could have helped.” She declared angrily and started to pace before she froze, her face slackening as something else dawned on her. “Was, was this why you stayed in Sabrina’s nursery for months after the funeral?” 

Shifting her weight to her other leg, Zelda nodded once more. “Yes, that and Sabrina’s name in the Book of the Beast. I wasn’t sure who’d come for her first, the coven or the Dark Lord’s cronies.” Clearing her throat, Zelda lifted a shoulder. “Took them longer than I thought, but it was the coven who came in the end.” 

“Zelda!” 

Heaving a sigh, Zelda threw up her hands in exasperation. “I was protecting you too. I didn’t want them to target you for any reason, didn’t want to risk you. So, I made sure that, when the time came, all their anger was directed at me. Not that they ever tried anything ever again, not after the lesson I taught those women.” 

Trembling with anger, Hilda’s lips twisted as an angry flush crept up her neck. “ **No. More. Secrets!** ” She exclaimed, emphasizing each word with a hand gesture. “First the dark baptism when Sabrina was a babe and now this? You can’t keep hiding things from me when it comes to the safety of this family, Zelda.” 

“I was only trying—” Zelda started to explain when Hilda interrupted her again. 

“I _know_ what you were trying to do, Zelds. What I don’t know is why you felt compelled to do it all by yourself.” Her sister sighed, running a hand through her hair again and looking around the room as if to find an answer in one of the corners. 

Zelda swallowed hard and conjured up a chair, taking a seat. “You should sit, sister.” She indicated to the old couch they’d pushed against the wall ages ago. “There is much I should have told you long ago.” 

Stunned, Hilda slowly sat, clearly she hadn’t been expecting Zelda to share. And, to be fair, Zelda hadn’t anticipated on sharing this secret today either; or ever for that matter. But she couldn’t handle it on her own anymore. At some point in the past month or so, the burden she’d been carrying no longer was bearable, but crushing in its weight. 

It wasn’t a matter of wanting to share, it was a matter of need. 

Sighing, Zelda conjured a cigarette and lit it, Satan knew she’d need one to get through this conversation. She took a long draw of nicotine, held it, and then blew it out. “It started when Edward asked me to witness Sabrina’s first dark baptism.” Zelda murmured, taking another deep drag from her cigarette. “Our dear brother essentially blackmailed me into attending… after I magically accosted him.” 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Dear Satan,” Hilda murmured when Zelda finished nearly thirty minutes later, rather pale in the face. Then her words registered, and color flooded her sister’s cheeks. “No, no fuck Satan!” She shouted, eyes blazing and the lights flickering as she shoved off the couch and began to pace. Breathing heavily, Hilda paced for a minute before she turned her attention back to Zelda. “All these years? Why did you hold it all in? That is such a weight to carry, Zelds.” 

A lump formed in Zelda’s throat, she’d expected more anger, yelling and magic crackling through the air because she’d lied and hidden so much. She hadn’t expected Hilda to look at her with eyes filled with concern, to use such a soft tone. 

Shifting in her chair, Zelda licked her lips. “I wanted to spare you the knowledge, protect you from it. From the pain, the paranoia, the constant looking over your shoulder…. Both of us didn’t need that. I managed.” She attempted a smile and was certain she failed. 

Hilda took a half step towards her, “but did you, Zelda?” She asked in a small voice, and from how she glanced at the bed and how her hand came up to unconsciously touch her back, Zelda knew she was referring to the night terrors and flogging. 

A shaky huff escaped her before she collected herself. “Well, I never said the stress and duties didn’t get to be a little too much at times.” Zelda remarked stiffly, still immensely uncomfortable talking about how she’d dealt with everything for the past nine years or so. 

Several tears streaked down Hilda’s cheek, though her sister didn’t seem aware of them. “Why didn’t you come to me? Before you, you started hurting yourself? I could’ve helped.” She added, tears coming faster now. 

How had she let a conversation about the baby turn into this? How had her sister managed to direct their talk to the topic Zelda had been avoiding for days? It was too late to avoid it now. If Zelda ever wanted to get back to the topic of the baby, she knew Hilda would insist on discussing the flogging. 

Pressing her lips together, Zelda knocked the excess ash off her cigarette anxiously. “Because from decades of experience I knew you couldn’t keep a secret, and this was the most dangerous one of them all.” 

Hilda frowned at her, “that’s not it,” she whispered, eyes pleading. 

Her mouth worked soundlessly for a moment as Zelda tried to force the words past her throat. Somehow, somehow this was more difficult to talk about than Edward’s murder and her break in faith. Eventually, she managed a small, “I couldn’t.” 

“Why, though, Zelds.” Hilda implored, closing the distance between them a little more. 

Blinking rapidly to discourage the tears welling up from falling, Zelda turned her head and addressed her next words to the wall. “Because Edward never, he didn’t…” She stopped as tears constricted her throat and she took a shaky drag of her cigarette. “Edward didn’t need help. He was strong enough to run everything on his own. I _needed_ to be too. I couldn’t let any of you down by not being able to fill his shoes.” Her voice cracked and she pinched the inside of her arm out of habit. 

A small sniffle sounded from in front of her, but Zelda continued to stare at the wall, knowing if she looked at her sister she would break. 

“Zelds,” Hilda murmured, grabbing her hand and squeezing hard. “You listen to me, and you listen good. Edward never did any of it alone. **Never.** As high priest he had his acolytes, for the mortuary he had Ambrose, for Sabrina he had Diana and us. He was _constantly_ asking for help.” 

These words had Zelda’s head snapping forward to look at her sister. “What? No, he wasn’t—”

Dabbing at her cheeks with the cuff of her sleeve, Hilda shook her head. “Zelds, I know you idolized him. Heaven knows why, he caused you enough grief; though you’ve seemed to have blocked out some of the worst. Regardless, Edward was _far_ from perfect. Especially given everything you just told me.” She reached up and framed Zelda’s face, “you have to stop measuring yourself against him… because you’ve surpassed him in **every** way.”

Chin trembling, Zelda shook her head as tears slipped down her face—just as she’d predicted, looking at her sister had been her downfall. “I don’t deserve your kindness,” she replied thickly, casting her eyes downwards and snipping her fingers so her cigarette disappeared. “After everything I’ve done, how horribly I’ve—”

A firm, but gentle, hand gripped Zelda’s chin and forced it up so she had to make eye contact with Hilda. “Now, now, enough of that, Zelds.” Hilda breathed, releasing her chin and brushing away Zelda’s tears. “You’ve been under _immense_ pressure. If not from yourself, then our parents, Edward, the coven, Heaven, even the Dark Lord. More pressure then I could ever imagine.”

Shaking her head, Zelda stood and moved away from her sister’s comforting touch; knowing she was undeserving of it. “That’s no excuse. I harrowed—”

“So I wouldn’t go through something worse.” Hilda cut in, straightening up but letting Zelda keep the distance she’d put between them. 

“What?” She all but blubbered, turning to face her sister again. Zelda knew that was one secret she’d never told anyone and never planned on telling anyone either. 

Carefully, Hilda took her hand and guided her to sit on the couch with her. “After what happened with Sabrina, I started to think on it harder and I figured something out. I remembered you were already having night terrors when I came… from your own harrowing?” 

Zelda nodded jerkily and pressed her fingers into the corners of her eyes in a poor attempt at stemming the tears. Hilda gave her a small smile and kept talking. 

“When I was harrowed, I didn’t have terrors, not like you. It gave me a bit of perverse pleasure to think I was stronger than you, at least in that.” Hilda held up her hand to keep Zelda from interrupting. “That was, until I was asked to join in harrowing a new student. I joined,” she grimaced in regret at the admission. “I joined so I wasn’t picked on for not participating at least once—and I told myself it would only be the once. What I witnessed… it was a much more brutal harrowing than the one I endured. I didn’t think much of it then, too angry with you to connect the dots.” 

Sniffing, it was Zelda’s turn to grip her sister’s hand. “You should have been angry, had every right.” 

“Too angry to realize what you’d protected me from.” Hilda finished, talking as though Zelda hadn’t spoken. “Too angry to see how for the rest of our time at the academy you protected me from bullying, from so much. I didn’t realize all this until recently, though why you never told me, explained…” She trailed off and caught Zelda’s eye.

Spinning her rings nervously, Zelda dropped her gaze to her lap. “I was ashamed of what I’d done. No other witch had ever harrowed their sibling. And I—," She ran her tongue over her teeth, “I didn’t think I could handle it if you rejected my apology, rejected me.” Zelda confessed in a whisper. “So, I denied you the apology and explanation you deserved because I was selfish. Instead, I did what I could to ensure no one ever hurt you in that way again.” Brushing back her hair, Zelda shifted uncomfortable on the couch. “I couldn’t take what I did back, but I could do that much. But that doesn’t excuse the rest—”

Hilda placed her hand over Zelda’s where it had started to tap restlessly against her thigh. “No, it doesn’t. Not all of it.” Her sister agreed and Zelda was glad she wasn’t fully forgiven—she didn’t even deserve the forgiveness she’d already received. Hilda’s voice recaptured her attention. “But I understand you _so much better_ now, Zee. I just wish you’d have let me understand sooner.” 

A shuddering exhale worked its way through her body, and Zelda turned to look at her sister directly. “I’m sorry, Hildie. I am truly, deeply, sorry.” She struggled to get the rest past her tears, “I’ll be better.” A promise she should have made long ago. 

“You have been,” Hilda reassured her, once more inadvertently demonstrating she was a much better person than Zelda. 

Before Hilda could expand on that or Zelda could argue, a small trill echoed through the room. Zelda stood quickly and checked the vanity mirror, the baby appearing in the mirror. But she’d only been snuffling a little before falling back into sleep. Sighing, Zelda waved a hand and cleared the image from the mirror. 

Standing to approach her sister, Hilda came up behind Zelda. “What happened with Blackwood, all those years ago? Why did you push him away? Did you find out he had something to do with Edward?” 

Spinning to face her sister, Zelda shook her head adamantly. “No. Edward made his bed; the Dark Lord just ensured the pilot and council investigators made him lie in it. Faustus, he just benefited from Edward’s death, became high priest because of it. I’d _never_ have gotten involved if he’d had any hand in the matter.” Zelda stated firmly. 

“Then why?”

Zelda laughed in disbelief, “I just told you I’ve been faking my faith for over a decade, that isn’t explanation enough?” She raised a brow, but Hilda just pursed her mouth to indicate she wasn’t going to accept that as an answer. “Because I knew if it was ever discovered that I no longer believed… the Dark Lord… I’d lost Edward, I wasn’t going to risk any of you. And Faustus, when it was only sex alone it was safe; it was okay. But he asked for more and how could I keep up the façade I’d cultivated with a high priest as a husband?” 

Furrowing her brow, Hilda crossed her arms. “It probably would’ve strengthened it.” She noted, “no one would have suspected the wife of a high priest of being disloyal to the church.” Pausing, Hilda examined Zelda. “But you thought of that, I’m sure. No, you were scared of what would happen if **Blackwood** found out. What he might have to do…” 

She wiped her cheeks, “I couldn’t put any of you at risk.” Zelda repeated, but at Hilda’s skeptical look, she knew her sister sensed there was more than just the safety of their family. “And, and I didn’t think I could handle… that kind of loss, betrayal. I couldn’t put myself, or Faustus, in such a position.” 

Hilda nodded, “and now?” Her eyes flicked to the mirror where the image of the babe was moments ago. 

A shaky laugh escaped her, “now? I, I don’t know. I still, I lov—, I don’t know.” Zelda confessed, unsure of where she and Faustus stood. “But we are in a place where he trusts me to care for, raise and protect his daughter. So, that’s something.” Her voice adopted a clipped tone once more as she made to leave; not wanting to delve deeper into her feelings than she already had tonight. Besides, she’d come in here to convince Hilda there was nothing unscrupulous about her sudden adoption of a child and Zelda felt she’d accomplished that. 

“We have to tell Sabrina.” Hilda remarked, much to Zelda’s confusion.

Pivoting slowly, Zelda faced her sister once more. “Well, it wasn’t as if I were going to hide the babe, Hilda. I have a backstory lined up and it would be helpful it you, Ambrose and Sabrina supported it.” She stated, unsure why Hilda thought she’d hide the child from the rest of the family. 

“No,” Hilda waved a hand, “I mean, of course we’ll say what’s necessary to protect the baby and keep her here. What I meant was, we need to tell Sabrina the truth about Edward and Diana.” 

The words made Zelda go cold and her vision swam, the edges going fuzzy and black. “Absolutely not.” She breathed in horror. 

Hilda looked at her aghast, “she **deserves** to know. We promised no more lies about her family.” She added pointedly, crossing her arms.

“ _We are **barely** keeping her alive as is!_” Zelda hissed, clutching the back of the chair she’d conjured, knuckles going white. “Can you imagine what Sabrina would try if she knew the truth?”

Opening and closing her mouth a few times, Hilda shrugged a little helplessly. “That’s a valid point.” She muttered after a moment, though her lips twisted in disapproval. Then her eyes lit up. “I won’t tell Sabrina under one condition.” 

The relief Zelda had felt from finally telling someone about the burden she’d been carrying vanished. She looked at her sister in pained astonishment, “this, this isn’t some bargaining chip, Hilda. This is a matter of life or death for our entire family. I—”

“You never hurt yourself again.” Hilda cut in, jaw set and tone unrelenting. 

“Hilda,” she hedged. 

Shaking her head, Hilda straightened up. “No, Zelda. It’s not up for debate. Either you agree to continue to protect this entire family from this horrible and dangerous secret **and** protect yourself. Or I tell.” 

Clenching her fists, a ghost of a snarl tugged at Zelda’s mouth. “That’s preposterous. You’re blackmailing me even though my coping method has _nothing_ to do with keeping Sabrina and Ambrose safe.” 

“Oh, it has nothing to do with them? Then we can just tell them what you’ve been doing. Can show them your back while we’re at it, if it’s no big deal.” Hilda countered throwing her hand into the air. 

Eyes flashing, Zelda took a step towards her sister. “Under no circumstance—”

Hilda mirrored her actions and took a step forward as well, so they were toe to toe. “Then make the deal.” 

All the anger drained out of Zelda suddenly, another tear streaked down her cheek. “Why? Why are you doing this?”

Losing her defensive stance, Hilda’s faced crumpled. “Because you need protecting and love too.” She whispered vehemently, gripping Zelda’s arm. 

Taking a shuddering breath, Zelda spun her rings a little more before grinding out a “fine.”

“Fine what?” Hilda prompted, “say it properly so it’s a real deal.” 

Biting the inside of her cheek, Zelda exhaled forcefully through her nose. “Fine. I will stop, stop hurting myself as long as you do not tell Sabrina the truth about her parents.” She spat, disgusted with herself for backing herself into this corner. 

Hilda gave her a tremulous smile and pulled Zelda into a tight hug. “I know this, this has been a difficult night for you, sister. But I am proud of you.” 

Baffled, Zelda pulled back from the hug. “For what? Submitting to blackmail?” She scoffed and smoothed her hair back and wiped her cheeks. 

Sighing, Hilda shook her head at how quickly Zelda was rebuilding her walls. “For allowing yourself to lean on others, for accepting help, for putting an end to a harmful practice, for admitting fault and apologizing.” 

She rolled her shoulders uncomfortably in response. “I kind of hate you,” Zelda muttered, irked that Hilda had outmaneuvered her. 

A low chuckled emanated from her sister. “Well, the feeling is mutual.” Hilda replied wryly.

Zelda glanced at her sister and smiled tenderly, “I love you, Hildie.” She murmured briskly and quietly, hurrying from the room before Hilda could reply. 

She quickly ensconced herself in her room before Hilda could pry anything else out of her. Though she’d been willing, and needed, to talk about what happened to Edward, everything concerning Faustus and her flagellation hadn’t been part of the plan. 

All Zelda could do now was praise Satan she hadn’t mentioned Mary Wardwell and whatever scheming she was doing. She needed to figure the witch out and how to handle her before bringing Hilda in on that particular secret. 

Rubbing the back of her neck, Zelda changed into her nightgown, robe and put a wrap in her hair to better keep it off her face. She should go to bed; it’d already been a long night and the babe would be up soon for another feeding and changing. 

Zelda paused then, she could hardly keep thinking of the child as ‘the babe’, the girl deserved a name. Quietly, Zelda hovered over the cradle to peer at the babe. Tracing the girl’s cheek, Zelda wracked her mind for names, discarding most the moment she thought of them.

Countless parents struggled with this process, Zelda had witnessed it time and again during her time as a midwife. Had Faustus considered any female names she might have gone with that, but seeing as how everyone expected twin boys, no female names were considered. 

Cocking her head, Zelda continued to watch the babe as her eyelids fluttered in sleep. The sight sent warmth and joy through Zelda’s heart, and the rush of emotion had her blinking. Joy… that was what this child made her feel, even after such a short period of time, and it was such an odd sentiment to feel after the past few months of strife. 

While she could hardly name a Child of Night ‘Joy’, Zelda could name her something that meant joy in Latin. Smiling tenderly at the girl, Zelda pressed a light kiss to her forehead. “Welcome home, Leticia.” She breathed, happiness flooding through her when Leticia’s mouth opened in a small yawn. 

Just then, the perimeter spell alerted Zelda to the appearance of a certain warlock on the property. Recasting her protection and alarm spells on Leticia, Zelda hastened down the hallway and stairs, wanting to beat the guest to the front door before he could knock. 

Swinging the door open, Zelda caught Faustus with his hand poised in the air, clearly taken aback by her sudden appearance. “What is Satan’s name are you doing here, Faustus?” She demanded in a harsh whisper, peering over her shoulder even though Hilda was the only one home right now and she already knew everything. When he didn’t answer, she whipped back around, “Faustus!” 

Blinking, he shook his head and brought his eyes back to hers; he’d been staring at her chest, her nightgown much more revealing than her normal dresses. “I, what?” He asked distractedly.

“What are you doing here?” She stressed, checking behind him now to see if anyone or thing had followed. 

Faustus held up his arms slightly, presenting the sleeping bundle that was his son. “Judas wanted to see his sister and Night Mother.” He murmured, looking at her hopefully. 

Zelda rolled her eyes but stepped aside and allowed him in. “Upstairs, quietly!” She instructed, checking outside once more before shutting the door firmly. Nodding, Faustus walked up the stairs with exaggerated care. 

As he made his way up, Zelda went to the kitchen to make some tea. It was only when she picked up the kettle and some cups that she was suddenly grateful Hilda had decided she needed to move into her own room tonight. Though it would be an adjustment, they’d shared a room since they were children, it was a good step for the both of them. Shaking her head, Zelda made her way upstairs as well, carefully locking the bedroom door behind her after she entered. 

She froze when she saw Faustus had transformed the single cradle into a large crib so the twins could lay next to each other. He was leaning over the expanded crib, speaking quietly to the babes, his voice only a murmur. 

The scene had Zelda softening, could she really blame him for wanting to see his daughter? For wanting his children to be together? 

His voice interrupted her thoughts. “Did you decide on a story?” 

“Hmm?” She set down the cups and kettle on her vanity. 

“To tell the coven.” Faustus elaborated, gesturing to Leticia. 

Zelda joined him next to crib and smiled as the twins cuddled against one another. As they watched the babes, she told Faustus her plan. When she finished, he nodded. “Clever, no loose ends.” 

Arching a brow in acknowledgement, “my thoughts exactly,” Zelda murmured. 

They stood in silence for a moment, when Faustus broke it. “Have you selected a name?”

“If you have one, Faustus…” She trailed off, though she loathed to change Leticia’s name, she was still his child. 

Shaking his head, Faustus conjured a mobile with little stuffed spiders, bats and moons to hang above the crib. “No, I’m sure whatever you have picked is perfect, Zels. I just want to introduce Judas to his sister properly.” He smirked at her a little before turning his attention back to the babes. 

“Leticia,” she supplied, “after—”

“Letitia di Albioni.” Faustus finished with her, and she shivered at how well he knew her. “A powerful enough witch even the mortals have legends about her.” 

Zelda rolled her eyes, “their legends are _highly_ misconstrued. They—” She fell quiet when Faustus started to chuckle, letting her know he was already aware of how false the legends were. 

Laying his hand over hers where is rested on the crib, Faustus pressed a little closer into her side. “It is a beautiful name. Leticia,” he murmured, as if testing it out, a smile spreading across his face as he did. “You know, in Latin, Leticia means happiness or joy.” 

Restraining a huff, Zelda nodded and just barely kept herself from stating she knew exactly what Leticia’s name meant in Latin—it being the primary reason she’d chosen it. The fact it also happened to be after a powerful witch in history was just a wonderful coincidence. 

Before she could think of a response that wouldn’t reveal how soft she’d become, Faustus took his hand off hers, slipped his arms around her waist entirely and stood partially behind her so he could rest his chin on her shoulder as he watched his children. 

She started slightly at the affectionate gesture and closed her eyes to try and control her breathing and slow her pounding heart. “What are you doing?” Zelda asked, her voice almost a whisper. 

Faustus’ breath in her ear made her shiver, “holding the incredible witch who saved my children.” He murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to her neck. 

Licking her lips, Zelda tried to focus. “Constance…” she breathed, though why she was bringing the woman up she had no clue. Zelda had never thought of her before when they were fooling around, why did it suddenly matter now that Constance was gone?

Seemingly having the same thoughts, Faustus pressed another kiss to her neck. “Is dead. And meant as little to me alive as she does now. It was an arranged marriage, Zelda.” 

She blinked, how had she never known their marriage was arranged? Zelda attempted to turn in his arms, but he held her tight. “Why?” She inquired, “you could’ve had any witch or warlock you wanted. Why settle for an arranged marriage?”

At her question, Faustus released her and took a step back. When she turned, his brows were furrowed, and eyes fill with confusion. “It wasn’t my intention to have an arranged marriage. However, if you recall, the witch I wanted **and** asked _rejected me_.” He looked at her pointedly, the confused expression still creasing his face. “And after the rejection…” Faustus paused, and seemingly changed his mind as to what he’d been about to say. “I asked my mother to find a match for me. She found Constance. It was a farce of a marriage, we performed certain duties, knowing children were expected of us. But it went no further; neither of us faithful to the other. Constance wasn’t wrong in calling me a ‘voracious slut’ though the insult made her a hypocrite.”

Swallowing, Zelda tried to process what he was saying. Tried to reconcile his words with what she’d convinced herself was the truth; that his moving on so quickly evidenced he’d have grown bored with her, that he’d been so unaffected by her refusal he’d moved on to the next witch with ease. But, he’d, he’d wanted her. Had all but just admitted that her decision impacted him so much he simply threw himself into an arranged marriage. 

He’d wanted _her._

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked, a little hoarsely. 

Faustus huffed, “that it was an arranged marriage?” A frown tugged his features, “well, you quite literally ran away and avoided me after my proposal. Besides, at that point it seemed no concern of yours, you didn’t want me so…” He lifted a shoulder in nonchalance, but his eyes were dark with something Zelda might name as old pain. 

Shaking her head a little in disbelief, Zelda went to spin her rings only to remember she’d taken them off for bed; forcing her to fist the material of her robe instead. “You wanted, you wanted me.”

Rolling his eyes, Faustus stepped closer to her. “Isn’t that what I just said.” He quipped, reaching out and gripping her hips, thumbs stroking along the silk of her nightgown. At her continued disbelief, Faustus tugged her closer and rested his forehead against hers. “I’ve wanted you all this time, Zelda Spellman. Since the day we met at the academy. You walking out on me didn’t change that.”

“But I thought it was because Constance was denying you. The only reason you came back—”

He pulled away at that, “you thought I was only seeking you out for sex? After everything we’d been through and with our past, you thought I was using you for sex?” A hurt expression flickered across his face and was gone before Zelda could be sure she truly saw it. 

“Well, yes.” She retorted, though she wasn’t quite as confident in her reply because of how he’d responded. “When we first started this, the way you brought it up… Constance denying you, you wishing she were more liberated, polyamory…” Zelda shrugged, unsure how else she could have interpreted those statements. She knew, though, that she was picking and choosing from their recent interactions for moments that supported her theory; unwilling to acknowledge that there’d been many moments which suggested there was more between them. 

Faustus scowled at himself and slid a hand from her waist up into her hair. “I was trying to tell you that Constance and I hadn’t, not for weeks. Because you were back in my life. I was trying to say I hadn’t been with any other witch—”

“That’s **not** what you said.” Zelda interrupted, mouth going dry at his implication that he’d been celibate since they reentered one another’s lives more fully, that he’d been monogamous with her once they’d restarted whatever was between them. That despite his mentions of polyamory he hadn’t been serious. 

Dropping his head back, Faustus brought his eyes back to her a little helplessly. “I didn’t think I needed to state my intent out loud so blatantly. My actions were obvious enough.” He countered, pressing his body against hers in demonstration. “Besides, the last time I was so forward with you, _you left_.” 

And it all came flooding back, why she’d left in the first place. None of those reasons had changed or gone away—they were still very real and present. But she’d denied herself for so long, and she didn’t want to, not anymore. Besides, they’d both just defied the Dark Lord by hiding Leticia from him and the coven, claiming Judas the sole Blackwood heir. And Faustus admitted to wanting her all along…. Didn’t those things mean something? They _had_ to mean something, and so when Faustus leaned in to kiss her, Zelda didn’t resist, instead she was the one to close the remaining distance between their lips. 

The kiss was long, passionate and had emotions welling up inside Zelda she normally buried. But it’d been a night for raw emotions and the revelation of secrets, so perhaps that was why, when they broke apart, Zelda uttered those three damned words. 

“I love you.” Her eyes snapped open wide at the declaration and she pulled and turned away, horrified. 

Stunned, Faustus blinked. “Zelda, I—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Zelda performed a silent memory adjustment spell to make him forget the conversation. She couldn’t handle a rejection, the age-old excuse that witches only lusted, never loved. And that was what he’d admitted to, lust—though a stronger form of it than usual, that’s still all he felt. How could she have been so stupid? So vulnerable as to allow herself to express something she’d repressed for over a decade? 

When she slowly turned back to face him, Faustus’ eyes were out of focus and his expression blank. Then he shook himself and looked at her confused. “What?” 

Inhaling shakily, Zelda smiled at him. “I was telling you I chose Leticia to be her name.” 

Faustus smiled and approached the crib again, cooing over the babes, making sure not to wake them. “Leticia is a wonderful name,” he murmured. “You know in Latin, it means joy.” And though her heart ached by how well the spell had worked, how easy it was to distract him, it was for the best. She couldn’t allow him to know her true feelings, couldn’t expose herself like that. Faustus was still leaning over the crib, “Judas and Leticia,” he tested out the names, smiling. “They’re perfect. I only wish…” And he trailed off, looking at her with an emotion in his eyes, one that told her he wished she’d born him these children. 

Despite how this sent thrills through her and had Zelda wanting to proclaim her love once more, she couldn’t give him the chance to go down the same conversation path. The déjà vu would tip him off to the fact that she’d played with his memory. So, instead, she placed a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. 

He broke the kiss momentarily, eyes blazing with lust and something she couldn’t identify as they swept over her before he crashed their lips together again, hungry for more. Zelda eagerly pressed herself against him, just because she was going to deny the depth of this relationship didn’t mean she had to deny herself the physical aspect. 

They only paused long enough to consider the babes, casting a quick silencing spell so they could hear if the babes cried but no one else could hear them. After that it was rushed, hot, and delicious. 

Afterwards, they laid contentedly in one another’s arms, her head on his chest and one of Faustus’ hands tangled in her hair as the other drew lazy patterns on the arm she’d thrown around his waist. He’d turned to her, a soft look on his face, “Zels, I—” when a door slammed down below, and Zelda could feel the rush of new magic pulsing in the air even floors above. 

Sitting in up surprise, Faustus turned to her. “She, she signed?” He asked incredulously.

Zelda only shook her head, just as confused, but the signs were unmistakable. She quickly climbed out of bed, dressed, and waved a hand to hide any evidence of their recent activities. “Stay here.” She instructed, bending over her trunk and snagging a small box out and stashing in her robe pocket. 

Lifting a brow at the command, Faustus smirked and murmured, “as you wish.” 

She rolled her eyes, checked herself one last time in the mirror, before heading to Sabrina’s room. When Hilda didn’t emerge from her room as well, Zelda assumed her sister was already asleep—good, Hilda needed to recover from holding off the Thirteen and Red Angel; she’d expended enormous amounts of energy. There was no need to wake her sister, she’d find out in the morning. Besides, Zelda wanted to have this moment alone with her niece. 

Knocking tentatively, Zelda waited. Though she knew Sabrina was in her room, the magic palpable enough it would’ve given away the girl’s location anywhere in the house, she didn’t want to force anything. 

After a moment, a quiet, “come in,” filtered through the door. Pushing it open slowly, Zelda took in Sabrina’s new appearance more fully than she’d been able to during her astral projection. Her niece was sitting cross-legged on the bed, already in her pajamas and cuddling her stuffed rabbit. 

“Want to talk about it?” Zelda questioned softly, coming to sit next to Sabrina.

Sniffing, Sabrina’s chin trembled. “I signed the Book of the Beast.” She informed her unnecessarily, leaning into Zelda’s side. “Ms. Wardwell said it was the only way to stop the Thirteen and the Red Angel. I had to burn them with Hellfire, like in my vision from the Malum Malus. But I wasn’t strong enough, so I signed. I, I didn’t see any other way to save everyone.” 

Zelda froze midway between wrapping her arm around Sabrina comfortingly. Badly wanting to leave right then and strangle Wardwell for coaxing Sabrina out of the safety of Hilda’s protection and into the woods. The only thing keeping her there was the fact that Wardwell would be gone from their lives now. She’d accomplished her mission, Sabrina had signed. There was no other reason for the bitch to interfere or put her girl in harm’s way ever again. Praise Satan she hadn’t told Hilda about the woman, it would have unnecessarily complicated things—even if it all was resolved now. 

Exhaling slowly to rid herself of the red that flooded her vision at the mention of Wardwell, Zelda hugged Sabrina against her. “Oh darling, we were already doing everything possible to protect the town. The coven was safe at the academy and the mortals at Baxter High. We only had to last an hour. It worked.” 

A few tears slipped down Sabrina’s face. “Not everyone was at the school, Auntie Zee. Roz, Susie… Harvey. They were all outside and in danger.” 

It was a monumental feat, controlling herself. First Wardwell, and now the Kinkle boy? Zelda squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her lips together to not curse anything. Why, why was it that whenever something happened Harvey was somehow the inspiration or motivator?

Zelda knew, on some level, it wasn’t his fault her niece was so heedless in her pursuit of her wants, of what she’d deemed was right. But things certainly would have been much easier this past month and a half if Harvey Kinkle had never been part of Sabrina’s life. 

“It’s not your job to protect everyone, sweetheart. That is a much too heavy burden to carry, let alone for a teenager. No matter your abilities.” She reached up and tucked some of Sabrina’s hair back. “I am sorry you felt you had to give up so much.” Sabrina just curled further into Zelda’s side. “What were you thinking? Leaving the protection of the school? Of your Aunt Hilda?” She admonished, though they’d all made it out in one piece, it very well could have ended differently. 

Pulling back, Sabrina wiped some of her tears away. “I was thinking of what you would have done in my shoes.” 

She stared at her niece, dumbfounded. “What?”

“I was just doing what I’ve seen you do all my life. Protect people. It’s not always crazy like summoning Hellfire,” Sabrina smiled sheepishly, “but it’s always been there. I understand now, what you’ve been doing. Why we need to keep up appearances with the church. I felt the Dark Lord’s presence. His true presence, not just a possession. It was chilling, terrifying. He’s really dangerous, Auntie.” Sabrina informed her, pale faced. 

Though panic shot through her at the idea of the Dark Lord hovering over Sabrina as she signed, Zelda also felt relief that Sabrina understood where she was coming from. “I know he’s dangerous, Sabrina. Which is why your constant rebellion against him has given me ulcers.” She half-teased, cupping Sabrina’s cheek for a moment. “I’m glad you finally understand. Though there is something I understand now as well. I was,” she took a deep breath. “I was letting my past experiences cloud how I raised you. 

“I was stifling you, trying to force you down a certain path in order to keep you safe. My fears come from a genuine place, as you’ve realized. But my fears stem from more than just knowing the Dark Lord is dangerous, darling. He took something irreplaceable from me and in the process forced me to do something I was strongly against. A part of me broke, Sabrina.” She whispered, explicitly confessing for the first time how damaged she’d been after Edward’s murder; how she’d never really recovered from it fully. And she hated it, hated how the word ‘broke’ stuck in her throat, hated the implications of it, hated that she wasn’t strong enough to glue herself back together sufficiently enough that she was now confessing to not only Faustus and her sister, but also her niece. But it needed to be done, she couldn’t continue on as she had, holding it in until she’d purged it with whipping. It wasn’t an option anymore; which meant this… talking. 

Sabrina dropped her rabbit and lurched forward, wrapping her arms around Zelda fully—though this time it was as though Sabrina was holding her and not the other way around. The gesture stunned Zelda, and after a moment she brought up a hand to stroke Sabrina’s hair; grateful her girl was staying quiet, as if she sensed that if she spoke Zelda would stop. 

Taking a shaky breath, Zelda continued. “I am relieved you’ve come to understand where I’ve been coming from… but you were right to work to change certain things as well. I’m sorry, sweetheart.” 

With a vigorous shake of her head, Sabrina pulled back from their embrace but gripped Zelda’s forearm tightly. “No, Auntie Zelda, I’m sorry. A lot of pain could have been avoided if I’d just signed on my birthday.” She dropped her eyes, “you were right, everything has a price.” Sniffing, she lifted her gaze and there was a bit of that old spark in it again. “I’m not sorry for most of it, stopping the harrowing, the Feast of Feasts, helping Susie’s uncle….” 

Zelda restrained herself from pointing out that while her girl had the best of intentions, none of what she’d done had any lasting effect. Yes, the harrowing would stop for a little bit, Prudence and her sisters scared off. But that happened every now and then (so she’d learned when she thought Sabrina would be safe because it was done away with), but it would pick up again when a new group of witches wanted to hurt others the way they’d been hurt. And Sabrina had saved Prudence from a gruesome fate, certainly, but the Feast wasn’t ended by any means and would continue again the next year. As for Jesse Putnam… well, he was dead now even with their intervention. 

But Sabrina’s heart was in the right place, she’d done those things to try and protect people, so Zelda wouldn’t admonish her beyond what she’d already done in the past. She just pressed her lips together and covered Sabrina’s hands with one of hers, squeezing slightly. 

“I see now, why you were so against defying the Dark Lord.” Sabrina added in a small voice, chewing her lip. “Why you work so hard to _appear_ like you’re devout.” 

The words threw Zelda and she involuntarily pulled away from her niece. How? How could she say such things? The **only** person she’d ever told about her break was Hilda and that’d been only an hour ago. There was no possibility Hilda had told Sabrina, it would void their deal…. How?

Furrowing her brow, Zelda did her best to collect herself. “Whatever do you mean, Sabrina? That is utter nonsense, I—”

“Auntie, I realized I’ve pushed you beyond the extreme recently. But you’ve chosen me over the church _every single time_. No matter what.” Sabrina was kneeling on her bed now, talking earnestly. “Looking back, I felt your magical signature weaken the vines as I ran from my baptism—when it would have been easier to let them drag me back and force me to sign. You came immediately when I asked for help with the harrowing, even though it’s a tradition. You performed an exorcism though it goes against church and coven laws, you helped me stop the Feast even though it’s a sacred church holiday,” Sabrina was talking faster now, as though she were afraid she wouldn’t be able to get this all out otherwise. “You let me try and fix the necromancy.” She added quietly, dropping her eyes in shame. 

Granted, Sabrina had named a number of examples where Zelda had chosen her family over the Dark Lord and the Church of Night, but Zelda couldn’t let her girl believe she’d lost her faith. It was too dangerous. “Of course, I helped you darling, but that doesn’t mean I’m pretending—"

Cutting her off, Sabrina brought her eyes back up. “I should have connected the dots sooner; after the Feast. When I asked you what you would have done if I’d been selected as queen and you said it wouldn’t have mattered. Even if it were the Dark Lord’s will, that you would _never_ let them hurt me.” 

“Not letting you be _eaten_ is not the same—” Zelda tried to object, though her arguments sounded feeble even in her own ears. When had she become so easy to read? So weak that everyone could see through her? 

A small smile tugged the corner of Sabrina’s mouth. “By itself, no. But combined with everything else I just listed, I realized you’d do anything to keep face with the coven… like let me draw a paper at the Feast lottery. But if it came down to it, you’d have done anything to protect me, protect our family.” 

And Zelda could feel tears welling up in her eyes. Because while the last thing she wanted was to give Sabrina another reason to rebel, it was an immense relief that her girl was finally figuring out what had truly motivated Zelda all these years. 

Encouraged by Zelda’s lack of protest, Sabrina continued. “And if you were really as devout as you say, it wouldn’t have mattered. You’d have been proud if I was selected for queen of the Feast; it’d have been an honor. And if you were as devout as you pretend, you would’ve gone and taken care of Tommy yourself, you wouldn’t have given me the chance; just a lecture after.” Sabrina shuffled a little closer to her, “ _I understand,_ Auntie Zee. And I am so, so sorry for everything I’ve done to put us in danger…. But Tommy, he’s, he’s gone now **and** I signed. Are, are we still in a grave?” She asked in quiet voice, looking at Zelda anxiously. 

Sighing, Zelda couldn’t refute the conclusions Sabrina had drawn, but she didn’t have to confirm them either. So, instead of addressing her lack of faith in the Dark Lord, Zelda just wrapped an arm back around her niece and tugged her into her side. “I’m not sure if we’re out of the grave yet, sweetheart. But I don’t think we are in _as much_ danger as we were.” 

Sabrina curled into her side once more, a silence settling between them as they processed the conversation. Carefully, Zelda pulled the necklace out of her robe pocket with the hand not holding Sabrina against her. She was about to hand it over when her niece broke the silence. 

“Are we going to talk about where you went? Why you disappeared?” And though there was no accusation in her tone, Zelda couldn’t help but feel they were both thinking if she’d been present tonight Sabrina might not have needed to sign—at the very least she’d never have allowed Sabrina to go off with Wardwell. Not that it mattered now, they couldn’t change the past. 

Sliding the necklace back into her pocket, Zelda nodded slowly. Before she could explain, however, a thin wailing cry echoed down the hall, though it soon died down; Faustus likely having taken care of whichever babe needed it. 

Confused, Sabrina stiffened against her. “Was that a _**baby?!**_ ”

“Yes, I—”

“Why didn’t you say you had a _baby_ here?” Sabrina demanded incredulously, pulling away from Zelda to stare at her. 

A smile touched Zelda’s lips and she cupped Sabrina’s cheek for a moment. “I wanted to check on you first.” 

Her niece softened at that and then remembered herself. “Well, now I want to talk about the baby.” She gestured towards the door, eyebrows raised expectantly as she adjusted her position, facing Zelda completely and tucking one leg underneath her.

Shaking her head affectionately, Zelda shifted on the bed to mirror Sabrina. “Her name is Leticia. She is the first born of Father Blackwood’s twins. That’s what I was going to tell you, why I disappeared earlier.” She clasped her hands in her lap to hide how she was twisting her fingers; anxiety was rolling through her, though why she was so nervous to tell Sabrina about Leticia she wasn’t sure. “I was summoned to the academy; Lady Blackwood had gone into premature labor and I was needed for the delivery. I tried to come back, Sabrina. I did, but—”

Sabrina waved a dismissive hand, “I know, auntie, I know you wouldn’t have abandoned us. What about the baby?”

Huffing in amusement, Zelda went on to explain. “Lady Blackwood died. Her body under too much stress from her overuse of magic, from her pregnancy induced hysteria, the whole Thirteen and Red Angel situation… it was hardly an ideal time to give birth. She bled too much; I didn’t have my tools… I couldn’t help her. But both babes lived.”

Sagging in relief that the children were alright, Sabrina looked at her sharply then. “But why?” She gestured down to the door again. 

“Leticia was born first, a surprise when all signs pointed to twin boys. Faustus and I decided it was too dangerous for him to claim her as his first born and there was no way to trick the coven into thinking her brother had been born first. You see, there are spells and—” Zelda went to explain but Sabrina headed her off. 

>“Spells and potions, yeah. I read about them for one of my history classes.” Sabrina interrupted her impatiently, “why is Leticia here?” 

Picking at the palm of her hand, Zelda swallowed. “I, I volunteered to take Leticia; raise her. I will tell the coven a single mother from another church died after giving birth, but refused to give details about her home because she didn’t want the babe returned to her abusive partner.” 

Sabrina licked her lips, “so, Leticia, she’ll, she’ll be your daughter?” She asked, voice a little high pitched. 

She blinked, “well, I, yes. I suppose she will be. In every sense of the word at least.” And Zelda tried to mask how thrilled she was by the notion; especially when she saw how her niece’s face fell a bit. 

“Oh, okay…” Sabrina murmured, nodding jerkily and clearing her throat.

Frowning in confusion, Zelda peered at her niece. Unsure why Sabrina seemed more upset by this than having to sign the book. But it wasn’t as if she could give Leticia to someone else, not that she could bear to part with the little girl in any case, so Sabrina would need to come to terms with another child being in the house. 

Perhaps, perhaps she thought she was being replaced? Another adopted girl of a high priest? Zelda had to admit, the parallels were somewhat disconcerting. But Leticia could never replace her girl. 

Slowly, Zelda took the necklace back out of her pocket. “I have something for you.” She murmured, gripping the box tightly in her hands where they’d come to rest in her lap once more. “I, I intended to give it to you on your _original_ dark baptism, but with everything…” Zelda raised a brow and chuckled slightly, and Sabrina gave her a wry smile in return, though there was still something akin to doubt in her eyes. “Well, anyway,” she handed the box over and waited for Sabrina to open it. “It belonged to my mother.” Zelda explained, as Sabrina admired the necklace, “and her mother before her and so on. It’s been passed down through Spellman women on their dark baptism for centuries. And I, I want you to have it.” 

Sabrina carefully took the necklace from the box, tears in her eyes. “Your mom gave it to you?” She repeated tremulously. 

Humming in the affirmative, Zelda placed a hand on Sabrina’s knee. “Yes, I wore it every day for a very long time. It means quite a lot to me, and I hope you come to value it as well.” 

“Are you, are you sure you don’t want to save it for Leticia?” Sabrina whispered, running the chain through her hands and not meeting Zelda’s eye. 

Taken aback, Zelda looked at Sabrina baffled. “Why would I save it for Leticia?” She inquired, the thought that Sabrina was trying to graciously reject her gift forcing itself into the forefront of her mind; her heart dropped at the idea. 

Sniffing, Sabrina rolled her shoulders, eyes still downcast. “Because she’s your _daughter_.” Came a thick reply, “she’ll get to call you mom.” Several tears dripped off Sabrina’s nose. “And this is an heirloom that gets passed down from mother to daughter.” 

The dark, sinking feeling that was threatening to pull Zelda under dissipated at Sabrina’s words. She wasn’t rejecting the gift, wasn’t rejecting Zelda. She truly thought she was being replaced and didn’t believe the necklace should go to her. 

“Oh, my girl.” Zelda murmured, pulling Sabrina back into a tight embrace, her niece’s head tucked under her chin as Sabrina’s arms wound around her and fisted the material of her robe. “I never wanted to, to tell you this before.” She swallowed hard but forced herself to continue. “Because I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable or feel pressured or think I was trying to replace Diana. But I’ve loved you as a daughter. _Always_. You have always been, and always will be, my daughter.” She was crying now too, tears rolling down her cheeks. 

Sabrina buried her face against Zelda’s shoulder. “No matter how many babies you take?” She asked tremulously, the question slightly muffled.

Zelda couldn’t help but laugh a little and hugged Sabrina tighter. “No matter how many babies I **adopt**.” She clarified, rocking the two of them on the bed gently. “Though I don’t plan on taking in anymore.” Zelda pulled back and framed her niece’s face, wiping the tears away with her thumbs. 

A wide smile broke out on Sabrina’s face and she lurched forward and wrapped her arms around Zelda’s neck. “I never thought you were trying to replace Diana. I’m sorry for what I said the other night. You’re my mom in every way that counts…. I love you.” Sabrina murmured, sniffing once more.

Heart soaring at the words, Zelda clung to her girl tightly, and it took a moment for her to respond past the lump of emotions stuck in her throat. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

When Sabrina pulled back a minute later, she was chewing on her lip, suddenly shy. “Will, will you help me put it on?” She asked, already turning around and taking off the necklace Harvey had given her. Beaming, Zelda nodded and took the necklace and looped it around her girl’s neck before fastening it. When she turned back around and let her hand drop from the pendant, Sabrina look at Zelda. “How does it look?”

“Lovely,” Zelda whispered, fussing with the chain, smoothing out a twist and gently touching a lock of Sabrina’s new platinum hair. 

Not missing her aunt’s action, Sabrina’s hand came up to touch her hair as well. “Auntie Zee, does everyone’s hair change when they sign?” She asked, lightly tugging on the strand.

Reaching up and tucking a few stray locks behind Sabrina’s ear, Zelda shook her head. “No. It only happens in rare cases, when someone signs under extreme duress—which might be what happened to you tonight. Or when the witch or warlock signing is especially powerful. My hair did the same.” She reassured, smiling at the memory. 

“Really?” Sabrina straightened and looked at her excitedly, “what did your hair look like before?” Her brow furrowed, as though she were trying to imagine her aunt with anything other than her fierce red locks. 

Shifting on the bed to get more comfortable, Zelda huffed a little in amusement. “It was dark brown, like your father’s. We were so close in age and looked so alike people mistook us for twins at times. Thomas, Ambrose’s father, he had blonde hair like Hilda. Well, clearly Ambrose took after his mother, lucky for him; Thomas wasn’t much of a looker.”

“Auntie!” Sabrina playfully scolded, but she was smiling again. “But you had brown hair?” She asked, touching Zelda’s hair briefly before letting her hand fall. 

Zelda nodded, “yes, and when I signed, it lightened and took on a reddish color. I was delighted, naturally, not only because of what the color change indicated about my powers, but also because I felt red hair fit my personality _so_ much better.” She winked and Sabrina shook her head in amusement. 

Sobering for a moment, Sabrina tugged at the ends of her own her. “So, it lasts forever then? The color change.” 

Pressing her lips together, Zelda sighed. “Mine did, though I am not sure about others in general. It is not a common phenomenon and little research has been done on the topic. If you dislike this color, there are potions and spells we can use.” She offered, seeing Sabrina was self-conscious about the new look. “But that is something we can explore later. We should both be in bed.” Zelda arched a brow and stood. “Night darling, damned dreams.” She kissed the top of Sabrina’s head and made for the door. 

“Night, Auntie Zee, thank you for _everything_. Love you.” Sabrina smiled at her and crawled under the covers. 

Trying to contain herself, Zelda smiled back. “Love you too,” she breathed, switching off the light and closing the door behind her. Once out in the hall, Zelda had to lean against the wall, attempting to stem the fresh flow of tears making their way down her cheeks; though these were from joy. 

Sabrina loved her. 

Her reaction to the statement was over the top, on some level she knew this. Of course, Sabrina loved her, they were family. But to hear her girl say it, after so many years of conflict, after the gap between seemed to have been stretching endlessly for so long… it was something else. And then, then Sabrina had said Zelda was like a _mother_ to her in every way that mattered. 

Emotions clogged Zelda’s throat at the recent memory, and she covered her mouth to hide the wide, teary smile on her face. Her girl, her girl…. Sniffing, Zelda collected herself and made for her bedroom. 

So much had happened tonight it was almost impossible to believe. But as she entered her bedroom and found Faustus fast asleep in her bed, Zelda found that despite all the danger and craziness tonight had brought, she’d found a sense of peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed my mind about 8 times trying to decide what Zelda's price should have been. Because I did want it to be different from other ideas I've seen about her deal to never lose a child by giving up her ability to have her own... so, yeah.
> 
> Also, the fact that _all three_ Spellman siblings that we know of had different hair colors bothered me, so I tweaked it a bit.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edits made to previous chapter concerning Zelda’s price, additional information added.

Zelda woke hours later to the twins fussing and Faustus curled around her. When she moved to attend to the babes, Faustus grumbled and the arm he’d wrapped around her waist tightened and held her closer to his chest. Suppressing a smile, Zelda trailed her fingers along his arm and murmured his name; when he didn’t budge, she pinched him lightly. 

He shot up, clearly disoriented and hair a mess. “Whassisit?” Faustus slurred, blinking and looking around the room, his hand now resting on her hip. 

Chuckling, Zelda leveraged herself out of the bed and made for the crib. “Your children.” She intoned teasingly, scooping up Leticia and flicking a wrist to conjure a changing table in the corner of the room. Setting the girl down on the table, Zelda made to change her diaper when Faustus scrambled out of bed. 

“Wait!” He picked up Judas and came to stand behind her, bouncing slightly to soothe his son. “I need to see what you do,” Faustus informed her when she raised a brow at him. 

Unable to hide her smile this time, Zelda turned back to Leticia and started to walk Faustus through the process of changing a diaper; though she might have been a little distracted by the fact that Faustus was standing in her bedroom in his boxers, bare-chested, hair in its natural unruly curls he hated and cradling a babe trying to learn about diapers. 

When she finished, Zelda picked up Leticia and stepped back to let Faustus try. He was awkward and unsure, and to compound his anxiety Judas started to pee the moment the diaper was off; sending an arc of urine into the air and causing Faustus to yelp. 

“What in Satan’s name!” He hurriedly pressed the new diaper in his hand against the babe to prevent further spraying. A chortle escaped Zelda at his expense as she waved her hand to clean up the mess. Faustus whipped his head around and glared at her. “You could have warned me,” he groused, shifting back to Judas to clean the boy up and put on a new diaper. 

Biting her lip, Zelda stifled another laugh. “I didn’t think of it, when girls do that it doesn’t go flying.” She informed him dryly, though to be honest she’d been a bit distracted by Faustus when she was supposed to be giving him a lesson. 

Faustus muttered something under his breath and finished putting the diaper on Judas. He stepped aside then and glanced at Zelda for approval. 

Another snort of amusement left her. “Valiant effort,” she commended, “but it’s on backwards.” Zelda noted when Faustus’ face scrunched in confusion at her reaction. 

Sighing, he turned back to the table and changed Judas once more; wary this time of potential spraying. “If I can’t even change his diaper what use am I?” Faustus mumbled so softly that Zelda almost didn’t catch it. 

Brow furrowing, Zelda touched his shoulder as he finished, cradling Leticia in one arm. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Faustus. You’re new at this, you think any first-time parent knows what they’re doing?” She smiled reassuringly as he turned into her touch, Judas in his arms, diaper properly in place. “And, you’re going to hire a nanny or wet-nurse, are you not? For when you’re at work? She will handle most of this.” Zelda tried to soothe, her hand sliding up and down his arm. 

But Faustus shook his head, “I want to do as much as I can in caring for Judas.” He held the boy gingerly and moved to sit on the edge of her bed. Zelda joined him, her leg brushing against his as she sat. “My father,” Faustus rolled his neck and then returned his gaze to Judas, avoiding her eyes. “My father was a hard man, a distant one. Prone to harsh punishments, both verbal and physical… as you know.” He added quietly, and Zelda pressed against his side to comfort, knowing all too well how Faustus’ father had been; hers not too different. Faustus’ voice recaptured her attention before the memory could drag her under again as it had the other day. “My father claimed he needed to be that way, needed to do those things in order to best serve the church. So, that when the time came **I** might best serve the church.” Exhaling slowly, Faustus raised his eyes to meet hers, “I don’t want Judas despising me as I did my father.” 

Heart melting and knowing the pressures of a cruel father, Zelda cupped Faustus’ cheek and brushed her thumb along his skin. “You are not your father. Look at yourself right now. Would your father have _ever_ changed a diaper? Ever soothed the crying of his infant son?”

Huffing, Faustus turned his face into her hand and kissed her palm. “Thank you, Zels.” He murmured, kissing her palm again, “for everything.” 

And as much as Zelda wanted this moment to last forever, as much as she wanted to ask him to stay for breakfast, to stay and let the babes be together… she knew Faustus had to leave. Withdrawing her hand, Zelda stood and gently tugged him up so that Faustus was standing as well. 

“You’re kicking me out?” He teased, brow arching, though his eyes reflected something a little sadder. 

Smiling softly, Zelda lifted onto her toes and kissed him chastely, mindful of the babes still in their arms. “Your presence here is suspicious. Besides, you’ll have well-wishers descending upon your house shortly. It would be telling if you weren’t there to receive them and introduce Judas.” 

A frown tugged on Faustus’ mouth, but he waved a hand and suddenly he was dressed, his unruly hair tamed. “I’ll be off then. Will we see you soon?” He asked, stepping closer and peering at Leticia for a long moment before bringing his eyes up to hers. 

“Faustus,” she breathed in warning. “We have to be discreet. If—”

He closed the remaining distance between them the best he could with the babes and kissed her. “Haven’t we _always_ been discreet?” Faustus lifted a brow and kissed her again, nipping at her lower lip as he pulled away. “But we can discuss how this will work later.” He bent and kissed Leticia’s forehead and with that he disappeared. 

Shaking her head, Zelda cast a quick spell to dress for the day and fix her hair as well. It was a late start for her, though she suspected it would be one for most of Greendale given how late they’d all stayed up because of the impending crises of the fake storm, the Thirteen and the Red Angel. 

Just as she was about to go downstairs, there was a knock on her door. Surprised that anyone else was up, Zelda opened the door and found her nephew standing there, looking a little anxious. 

“I meant to come find you last night, after witching hour. But I was tethered to the academy, I—” Ambrose fell silent, having noticed the small bundle in her arms. “That’s a baby.” He remarked, eyes darting back and forth between her face and Leticia in confusion. 

“Come,” she smiled, leading the way down the hall and past the closed doors of Sabrina and Hilda’s rooms—they were still asleep; understandably, given the magic they’d used the night before. 

Once in the kitchen, Zelda prepped a bottle for Leticia and explained to Ambrose what happened after she’d been summoned away from Baxter High the night before. 

When the bottle was ready, Ambrose stood and took it from her and then he took Leticia as well, carefully balancing the babe as he started to feed her. “Eat, auntie,” he instructed when she blinked at him. “I already had breakfast.” He grinned and turned his attention back to Leticia; cooing at her and saying ridiculous things as he sat down in his usual spot. 

Zelda did her best to hold back her tears at the interaction and busied herself with making tea and toast to hide her sudden surge of emotions. Once her food was ready, Zelda settled across the table from Ambrose, sipping on tea and munching on slightly burnt toast while chatting amicably. When both she and Leticia finished eating, Ambrose burped the babe, stood, rounded the table and handed Leticia back. He smiled tenderly at them as Zelda adjusted her arms to better accommodate Leticia who was snuggling into her chest. 

Touching her arm, Ambrose waited until Zelda lifted her eyes to him to speak. “If you need anything, let me know.” He insisted, eyes imploring her to not take this on alone. 

She nodded. “Of course, darling,” Zelda murmured, reaching up and cupping his cheek briefly before patting it; emotions welling up again. Heaven, one would think she was the who’d given birth with how hormonal she was acting…. Though it was nice to have so many positive emotions swirling through her for once. 

“You deserve this,” Ambrose stated quietly, catching her hand as she pulled away and squeezing it. “To have a child of your own,” he elaborated at her confused expression. “And she deserves a mom like you.” With that, Ambrose kissed the top of Zelda’s head and retreated from the room before she could react other than more tears brimming in her eyes. 

Perhaps, she thought as she blinked back the tears, perhaps her feeling that things were looking up for the Spellman family wasn’t wrong, just mistimed. A little early. Because surely her heart couldn’t get any fuller. 

And for once life didn’t turn around and kick her in the teeth for her optimism. 

The next few days passed in relative peace; the most exciting thing happening was each of them adapting to having a baby in the house. Faustus checked in via mirror or witching board almost every night; often long after the babes and everyone else had gone to bed. He’d wanted to make in-person visits at least twice a week, but Zelda had to persuade him it would look suspicious to the coven; even if she was the midwife and Night Mother to Judas. 

Though discouraged, Faustus never failed to ask her about Leticia. If she was eating enough, how she was sleeping and other questions that made Zelda suspect that he was reading an infant book. But they didn’t only discuss the babes, they talked for hours about the academy, classes, students, acquaintances, side projects they were working on and recently, their pasts. 

She looked forward to their nightly chats, with such a major part of their past relationships being driven by the physical and little else, it was nice to reconnect on this level with Faustus as well. They often stayed up until midnight when the twins would wake up for another feeding. It was only when the cries of one of the babes drew one of them away that they ended their conversations for the night. 

And so, her lucky streak continued. Until a week after the arrival and subsequent demise of the Thirteen; when Hilda finally confided in her why she was still floating on air. 

They were in the parlor, Hilda on the couch knitting a hat for Leticia while Zelda sat on the floor playing with the girl. “I, I have something to tell you.” Hilda broke the comfortable silence, though her knitting needles kept clicking in her hands.

Raising a brow, Zelda did her best to hide how much those words affected her and her blood pressure. Unable to find her voice, Zelda hummed in response; hardly an enthusiastic reply, but apparently Hilda needed little prompting for she dove into a story about what happened the night the Thirteen and the Red Angel walked through Greendale. 

The tale ended with her kissing a mortal. The man she worked with, Cerberus. 

This detail had Zelda’s head snapping up and towards her sister. And even though panic flooded through her at the possibility of another Edward and Diana tragic ending, Zelda literally bit her tongue to prevent a number of admonishments and concerns from flying from her lips. She’d promised to be better. But just because she controlled her tongue didn’t mean Zelda had controlled her face. 

Hilda sighed, not missing Zelda’s expression and turned back to her knitting. “Just say it,” she muttered, purposely avoiding Zelda’s gaze. 

Schooling her expression, a little too late, Zelda kept playing with Leticia in an attempt to appear unconcerned. “He’s a mortal, sister.” She started tentatively, glancing at Hilda. 

“I’m well aware,” Hilda huffed, her needles flashing a little faster. 

Pressing her lips together, Zelda shifted so she could face Hilda properly. “Then…” she sighed. “Hildie, then you _know_ it really can’t go anywhere.” She remarked softly, touching her sister’s knee. Knowing that while witches often had flings with mortals, Hilda’s situation was not that…. Her sister had never been one for flings. 

Finally lowering the half-finished hat, Hilda brought her eyes up to meet Zelda’s. “It could,” she countered, eyes shining. 

Zelda chewed the inside of her cheek and then picked up Leticia, put her in her bassinet and joined Hilda on the couch. “Sister, you’re excommunicated, yes. But that doesn’t mean you’re above our laws. You can date him, there’s nothing expressly against that. You cannot marry him though, should it get that far. There is no long-term scenario where this works out.” Zelda placed a hand on Hilda’s forearm and squeezed. “We don’t age as they do,” she reminded her gently. “And while you are not vain like most witches, Cerberus will age. Will you still want him when he’s old?” When Hilda remained stubbornly silent, Zelda continued. “And we cannot remain in Greendale much longer. We’ve been here for almost two decades without an added wrinkle or grey hair between us. The mortals will start questioning why we don’t age. Cerberus likely won’t want to uproot his life only to have you leave him in years to come.” 

Tears welled in Hilda’s eyes and she averted her gaze once more, focusing on the fire in the fireplace instead of Zelda. 

“I don’t say this to be cruel, Hildie.” Zelda murmured earnestly; heart heavy. “I am glad this man makes you happy. Just don’t invest too much of yourself in him. I don’t want you getting hurt when it must end.” 

Hilda took her hand and gripped it tightly, a lone tear streaking down her cheek. “I know, Zelds. Thank you for looking out for me.” She smiled a little sadly at her. “But for now, I just want to enjoy it.” 

Nodding, Zelda gripped Hilda’s hand back. “As you should,” she insisted, carefully wiping her sister’s tear away before pulling back completely and moving back towards Leticia. “It has been _ages_ since you’ve shown interest in anyone.” Her tone was lighter, trying to relieve the weight she’d unwilling placed on her sister’s budding romance. 

Blushing at the observation, Hilda didn’t respond and went back to her knitting. 

“Of course, the first man to catch your eye _has_ to be a knockoff vampire who peddles trash.” Zelda sighed dramatically, tickling Leticia under her chin. 

Her sister swatted at her leg good-naturedly but kept her silence, though a smile tugged at her lips. 

But Zelda couldn’t let the opportunity to tease Hilda about this pass; Heaven knew when the chance would come up again; especially when her sister had such high standards. So, she waited a few minutes, letting Hilda believe she’d let the matter drop and then turned back to her sister. “Does he _always_ wear the cape? And what kind of name is Cerberus?” She asked, a wicked smile curling her lips. 

Only a huff escaped Hilda as she pointedly ignored Zelda’s playful comments. Over the next hour, however, Zelda managed to wheedle more information out of her sister about this mortal man who accomplished the monumental feat of capturing Hilda’s attention. 

As they sat there and chatted, Zelda gleaning more information about Cerberus, the pain and panic in her chest eased until it disappeared completely. Their luck hadn’t run out, not yet. This was a minor speed bump, if that. Things were still looking up for the Spellman family.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ **The Spellmans did what?!** ” Abigail screeched, shoving out of her chair and startling her wife. Rebecca had come home from an inter-coven meeting and was sharing what Shirley Jackson told them about the events in Greendale just a week or so prior. Infuriated, Abigail immediately teleported to the Spellman house despite her wife’s protests that they might be having dinner. 

Arriving on the doorstep to the mortuary, Abigail swept into the house without so much as a knock and found the entire family in the kitchen; having just finished eating. 

“The Greendale Thirteen were walking around and summoned the **Red Angel of Death** and we had to hear about it from _fucking Shirley Jackson_!?” Abigail exclaimed, standing in the entry into the kitchen, hands on her hips. 

Everyone just gaped at her; though Zelda did smile a little sheepishly after she recovered from the shock of Abigail’s presence. 

Sighing loudly, Abigail strode further into the room. “I know **your** life wasn’t in danger from the angel himself; you’re not a first-born. But honestly, Zee, you could have been _killed_ putting yourself between the Thirteen and the Red Angel to protect the town.” She started to pace the small area between the counter and the doorway. “To make matters worse, you didn’t even tell me!” Abigail threw her hands into the air, and before Zelda could respond, she rounded on the younger Spellman sister. “And Hilda!” Her tone had the witch taking an involuntary step back from where she stood by the sink, a towel clutched in her hands. “How could you let her do it? She’d have listened to you if you said it was dangerous! It—”

A young woman with platinum hair interrupted her tirade. “It was because of me.” She stood up from the table slowly, eyeing Abigail curiously. “I refused to let my friends and the rest of Greendale get _slaughtered_ because of witch interference.” 

Ambrose coughed, “actually, it was Auntie Zee’s idea. But Sabrina was likely the inspiration, weren’t you coz?” He raised a brow and smirked. “We all knew she’d try and do something stupid otherwise. It was easier to join ahead of time and make it safer than to let Sabrina run amok and try and clean up after her.” 

Blushing furiously, Sabrina swatted at him. “That’s not—”

Abigail took a step closer to the teen. “You’re Sabrina. Satan you grew up,” she breathed, then shook her head. “And finally signed the book from the looks of it.” Abigail remarked with a bit of an edge to her voice, eyes flicking to the girl's hair. “Do you know what you’ve been putting your aunts through?” She demanded, crossing her arms. 

“Abigail!” Zelda spoke for the first time, standing and coming around the table, her face like stone. “ **Don’t.** ” 

Arching a brow, Abigail scoffed. “She needs to hear it.” The unspoken ‘she needs to hear how much she’s hurting you’ hung in the air between them. 

Zelda placed a hand on her arm. “Abigail,” she repeated softly and shook her head. 

Lips twisting, Abigail threw the bewildered teen another glare, ready to give a lecture anyway when a baby cried. “Wha—, was that a _baby_?” She asked, stunned, eyes landing on a bassinet tucked into the corner of the kitchen. 

Biting her lip guiltily, Zelda moved around the table and picked up the babe. “This is Leticia. My adopted daught—”

“ **Your what?!** ” Abigail ran a hand through her hair in exasperation. “Two weeks. I left you alone for two weeks and all of this? We’re talking. Now.” She grabbed Zelda’s shoulders, spun her and propelled her from the kitchen and into the parlor. 

They spent the next few hours talking. Zelda told her about the Thirteen, the Red Angel, how she came to adopt Leticia. It was only during the last part of the tale that Abigail sensed her friend was lying. Lifting a skeptical brow, Abigail peered at the little girl in her arms and then back at Zelda; letting her know she knew she was lying but had chosen not to press the issue. 

Whatever Leticia’s true origin was, Zelda clearly had a good reason for keeping it from her. And Abigail knew that when Zelda became protective of someone there was almost nothing that could persuade her to reveal information she didn’t want to. Sighing, Abigail let the matter drop. If Zelda wanted to confide in her about Leticia’s mysterious circumstances she would when she was ready and not a moment sooner. 

Tickling the little girl in her arms, Abigail changed the topic when Zelda appeared to have nothing more to share. “You know, Rebecca’s been trying to subtly give hints that she wants another child.”

A snort escaped Zelda and she shook her head. “Subtle? Neither of you do subtle. What kind of hints has she left?” 

Grinning at the truth in Zelda’s observation, Abigail inclined her head. “Baby magazines, pulling out photos of the boys when they were little, pointing out _every_ pregnant woman on the street, asking if you’ve come out of retirement permanently or if it was a one off as a favor for the high priest.” 

Zelda watched her best friend fawn over Leticia and couldn’t help but smile. “So, it’d be a magical babe then, not adoption? If Rebecca is asking about midwives.” Abigail shrugged, so Zelda touched her arm. “Do you _want_ another child, Abs?” 

“I don’t know,” Abigail admitted with a sigh. “Part of me, a part that gets bigger everyday, says yes. That it’d be wonderful to have another child, maybe a little girl to add to our bunch…”

When Abigail didn’t continue, Zelda nudged her. “But,” she probed, seeing Abigail’s brow furrow. 

“But, the boys are a handful enough. I can’t imagine how we’d cope if we were outnumbered—” Abigail interrupted herself then so that she could give an exaggerated smile at Leticia who’d just yawned in her arms. “Is someone sleepy?” She asked, letting Leticia curl her fist around her finger and practically melting at the action. 

Smiling at the two of them, Zelda lifted a shoulder. “It wouldn’t be easy, having another child.” She agreed before adding, “the boys are starting junior academy in January, yes?” Abigail hummed in confirmation; her eyes still glued to Leticia. “Abs, is it a matter of you not wanting another child, which it valid and reason enough not to have another. Or is it that you’re nervous? In which case, there’s no need to be. You and Rebecca are marvelous parents.” Zelda reassured, watching her friend closely. 

Finally looking up from Leticia, Abigail met her eyes. “So are you.” She murmured, a soft smile on her face and Zelda’s lips curled up to match. “Though your middle child could use a stern talking to.” Abigail added, arching a slightly remonstrating brow.

Rolling her eyes, Zelda settled back into the couch. “Sabrina and I actually had a very heart-felt and meaningful talk after the Thirteen and the Red Angel tried to kill us all. We, we cleared the air on a lot of things. I think we made some real progress.” She informed her friend, pressing her lips together at the memory of some of the feelings they’d shared that night; how Sabrina had likened her to a mother. 

Abigail gave her an impressed look, “good. Hopefully now your niece understands the gravity of what she does and how it impacts others; specifically, you and Hilda.” 

“Alright, alright, enough about my life. Tell me about yours.” Zelda shifted on the couch so that one leg was tucked underneath her so she could face Abigail fully. 

Huffing, Abigail rocked Leticia, lulling the girl to sleep. “My life? It’s incredibly boring compared to yours.” She teased, shaking her head but diving into a story of how the boys had set fire to Rebecca’s greenhouse anyway. 

They chatted for another hour before Abigail had to go home. She kissed Leticia’s forehead, hugged Ambrose and Hilda, gave Sabrina an appraising look and then hugged Zelda hard, kissing her cheek before teleporting away wishing them a happy solstice and a long-burning Yule log. 

Zelda chuckled at her friend’s antics, happy that she and Abigail were back in frequent contact; or semi-frequent, considering she’d forgotten to inform Abigail about their most recent brush with death. Not that she could really be blamed, a lot had happened that night. Smiling to herself, Zelda scooped up Leticia and carried her upstairs to properly put her to bed; Sabrina trailed after her.

“So, Abigail is your friend from the academy.” Sabrina clarified, “Aunt Hilda and Ambrose said you’ve known her for a long time… and she knew me, so it must be true. But why don’t I remember her?”

Nodding, Zelda pushed into her bedroom and placed Leticia into her crib carefully. “Yes, Abigail is my oldest and dearest friend. And,” she gestured for Sabrina to follow her out of the room so that they didn’t disturb Leticia. “You likely don’t remember her because we haven’t seen one another in a little over seven years. Even then I believe I went to her house, though we’ve chatted a little via witching board, she hasn’t been by the house in ages.” 

Sabrina stopped in the hallway after Zelda closed the bedroom door and crossed her arms self-consciously. “And you, you told her about me? Said I, I was putting you through a lot? I mean, I know I was, but—”

Touching her niece’s arm, Zelda interrupted her gently. “I was asking advice on how to handle certain things and since Abigail has two unruly children of her own, I though she might have some ideas.” It was only a partial lie. She _had_ asked Abigail for advice, it had just mostly concerned Mary Wardwell. But since Sabrina had signed, there was no reason to reveal her distrust of the woman; she was gone from their lives now that her mission was accomplished. “I was just—”

“Looking for support.” Sabrina finished for her. “It’s okay, Auntie Zee. I know what I’ve put you and Aunt Hilda through. I’m glad you have someone to talk to stuff about.” Furrowing her brow for a moment, Sabrina smiled, “she’s your Roz,” her niece concluded. 

Zelda smiled, “she is.” She kissed Sabrina’s forehead. “Thank you for understanding that I sometimes need to get perspective from someone outside of the family. Now,” she clapped her hands and made for the stairs. “If I’m right, there is a Christmas horror movie marathon on tonight. Want to watch?” 

It’d been ages since they’d watched a scary movie together and Sabrina nodded eagerly at the idea. “Yes! Just let me change into my pajamas and get the hot chocolate and we can start.” She grinned excitedly and dashed into her room. 

Heading downstairs, Zelda flicked a wrist to change into comfier clothes of her own and then went to the parlor to get the TV and blankets ready. As she was prepping the room, Ambrose came in and immediately decided to join them, claiming his spot on the couch and waiting.

Hilda wandered in just as Sabrina did, carrying a tray of hot chocolate carefully. When they asked her to join, she promptly declined. Stating that Christmas was a time for cheer, _not_ horror. “I’ll be upstairs reading if you all need anything. And Zelds,” she paused in the doorway, hand resting on the frame. “I’ll keep an ear out for Leticia, you just enjoy the movies.” 

Nodding her appreciation, Zelda smiled at her sister before taking a seat on the couch between Sabrina and Ambrose and turned on the first movie. As the movies progressed, her niece and nephew pressed closer and closer to her until they were all crammed against one another, so that if one of them jumped it turned into a chain reaction. Zelda sighed contentedly and settled further under the large blanket she’d thrown over the three of them. 

When the credits rolled for one movie and they waited for the next to start, Sabrina turned to her. “Do you think Leticia will like scary movies?” She asked, eyes lighting up at the possibility of passing along her passion for all things horror.

Smiling, Zelda slipped an arm around Sabrina and then the other around Ambrose. “Well, I think the odds are in our favor, yes? Three of us against one Hilda.” 

Chuckling, the two agreed with her and snuggled closer as the next movie started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed a light, fluffy chapter between all the heavy stuff. The characters deserve a little break. Next chapter will get back to our previously scheduled programming. Hope you enjoyed 😊


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in this chapter, with the 4th of July holiday, technical problems and then a vacation I didn’t have much time to write. I hope you still enjoy!

The Solstice was upon them before any of them knew it, and nothing significant had rocked the Spellman house in the weeks since Sabrina had signed the book and their heart-to-heart conversation. These calm weeks acted as the evidence Zelda desperately needed to finally start accepting that things were calming down; as much as they ever would. Her blood pressure hadn’t been this low in years. 

She’d just returned from the kitchen with a whiskey when she heard Sabrina commending Hilda and Ambrose on the ‘Christmas’ tree. Zelda shuddered at the term and was quick to correct her niece. “It’s a Yule tree.” 

Though they’d had a _Yule tree_ every year for over a decade now, Zelda still couldn’t bring herself to label it for what it truly was or decorate it. The concept was no less mortal now than it had been when they first started. Making the rest of the house festive, that was one thing, she could handle that, but the tree? The tree was such a prominent symbol of the mortal and false god’s holiday that Zelda refused to touch it. 

Sabrina merely rolled her eyes and bent over to dig through a box for more pictures while Hilda chuckled at her. “Christmas isn’t that bad, Zelds. Plus, for someone who doesn’t believe in it, you have got yourself quite a few presents.” Her sister gestured to the gifts under the tree and poorly suppressed a smile. 

Shaking her head, Zelda made her way further into the room. “Those are not for _me_ , Hilda,” she informed her, “those are for baby Leticia.” Zelda came to a stop next to Letty’s bassinet and cooed at her. “Imagine, a baby in the house just in time for the winter holidays. It couldn’t be more perfect.” 

And it truly felt that way; as though it were perfect. It’d been ages since Zelda had felt something even remotely close to this, this calm and happiness. There’d been snatches of it, certainly, but such a prolonged period of calm _and_ happiness? She could honestly say it’d likely been since Sabrina pulled away from her all those years ago since something like this happened. And now… now, she had her family and Letty and she and Sabrina had never been closer. 

So, though she normally wasn’t one for the holiday spirit, this year Zelda felt she had more to celebrate. Hilda beamed at her from beside the tree while Ambrose lifted a teasing brow at her. 

“Pity the child in question was abducted.” He stated, cocking his head at her. 

Zelda frowned, though she knew her nephew was joking, the fact that he’d taken a liking to calling Leticia abducted rankled her. She hadn’t kidnapped the girl, she’d taken her in, saved her; Ambrose’s wording made it sound as though she’d done something wrong. And she hadn’t. 

Nostrils flaring a bit, Zelda turned away from Leticia to address Ambrose more directly. “Need I remind you of the high priest’s position when it comes to having a girl as his legitimate first born?” She arched a brow at Ambrose as she took a seat. 

Mirroring her, Ambrose sat in the chair across from her. And because he didn’t need the reminder as to why she took the babe in, he ignored her response. “What I can’t fathom is how you expect to keep the babe’s true origins a secret.” While Ambrose was sincerely happy for her, he couldn’t seem to let this particular matter go. 

As the weeks had passed, despite his initial approval, Ambrose developed some concerns about the situation. The chief one among them Leticia’s heritage. He’d come to Zelda several times after learning Leticia was permanently joining their family. Thinking the coven would be suspicious of the timing of the babe’s adoption; claiming they’d only grow more dubious as Leticia aged and looked more and more like her brother and father. He didn’t want Zelda endangering herself over this secret. 

The concerns were sweet, but Zelda felt they were unfounded. And it was odd to be the one brushing away worries for once instead of harboring them herself. To emphasize how unconcerned she was about the matter, Zelda looked at Ambrose. “Secret? What secret? Leticia is a Spellman now. Her mother tragically lost to the perils of childbirth. We will raise her as we did Sabrina.” 

A soft, skeptical scoff escaped Ambrose, but he didn’t push the issue further; knowing he wouldn’t get through to her. Not on this. She was adamant to keep Leticia, despite any potential dangers; she loved the girl so much already after only a few weeks. Zelda couldn’t imagine parting with her. 

It was only when they finished their bickering that she overheard the end of Hilda and Sabrina’s conversation. 

“I wish I could have had _one_ Solstice with them, Auntie.” Sabrina murmured, gently running her fingers along the edges of the small frame holding a picture of Edward and Diana. 

Zelda sighed quietly, wishing the same. She and Hilda had done their best to instill some memories of Edward and Diana in Sabrina; telling her stories and letting her know whenever one of her quirks matched one of her parents. 

But memories, secondhand ones at that, weren’t the same. 

Praise Satan for Hilda. Her sister knew exactly how to handle the conversation and soon had Sabrina smiling once more. 

Noticing the change in Sabrina as well, Ambrose piped up. “And I’ll read _A Christmas Carol_. Even Auntie Zee can appreciate that story.” He winked at her as he made the jibe, his way of apologizing for butting heads with her about Leticia. 

Huffing in amusement, Zelda stood and switched off one of the lamps. “I like the ghosts in it,” she informed them primly. Just because she couldn’t stand almost anything Christmas related didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate a good ghost tale when she heard one. 

“Speaking of ghosts,” Zelda strode back around the couch and turned off the other lamp. “It’s time to light the Yule log.” As they drug the grate away from the fireplace, Zelda told them the same thing she did every year. “Remember, the Yule log _is not_ a decoration. It is a protection.” She lit the paper underneath the log and waved the match out. “It must burn continuously from now through the shortest day, through the longest night, until dawn. Otherwise, Satan knows what malevolent forces might come down our chimney.” 

The reminder was hardly needed, her family knew the dangers of the Solstice and the potentially deadly creatures and spirits that lurked when it came each year. Nonetheless, it never hurt to reiterate some things… especially given recent rebellions. 

When they finished the blessing, the kids dispersed. Hilda made to as well, likely intending to make good on the roasted chestnuts and hot cider she’d promised their niece. 

Scooping up Leticia, Zelda followed her sister into the kitchen. “Is Sabrina alright?” She asked having only heard part of the conversation earlier, bouncing lightly as she did and keeping a hand ready to catch Letty’s pacifier in case it fell from her mouth—as it often did. 

Hilda glanced at her and gave her a small smile. “It’s Edward and Diana, she misses them.” She murmured, pulling out the chestnuts and setting them on the counter. “The holidays make it harder, when everyone is talking about being with family and a significant part of hers is missing. But the best we can do is help her know them by telling her stories.” Hilda nodded a little too enthusiastically and her eyes glazed over. Recognizing the signs, Zelda reached across the counter to squeeze Hilda’s hand. 

“Agreed. And I miss them too,” she offered, and when Hilda gave a watery chuckle, Zelda added. “Mostly Edward, as you know, but I do miss Diana for Sabrina’s sake if nothing else.” She squeezed Hilda’s hand once more and pulled back. “How about I start the cider while you get the chestnuts ready?” 

Nodding appreciatively, Hilda discreetly dabbed at the corner of her eyes with her sweater before picking up her knife and marking the chestnuts with X’s. 

Gently setting Letty in the bassinet once more, having conjured it, Zelda moved to the cabinet to pull out the ingredients for cider. “And what is Cerberus doing for the holidays?” She probed, wanting to cheer Hilda up and not think of family long dead—no good came from thoughts lingering on spirits, especially on the Solstice. 

A slight flush crept up Hilda’s neck as she dropped her eyes. “Visiting family. He has two younger brothers—" 

“Ah, yes, his brothers Orthrus and Chimera?” Zelda cut in, unable to help herself and barely holding back a laugh. 

At this Hilda brought up her eyes and gave Zelda an unimpressed look, though her lips twitched in amusement. “Just because Cerberus is named after a creature from Greek mythology doesn’t mean his brothers are too.” She scolded, greasing a pan and placing the prepared chestnuts on it. 

Humming and lifting her eyebrows to convey her disbelief, Zelda started to mix the cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves. “If you insist,” she intoned, smirking. “So, he’s with family? Is this family local?” 

They continued to chat as they prepared the snacks and soon the smells drew Sabrina and Ambrose back downstairs. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The next day passed quickly, Zelda’s students having little interest in choir, their minds already on the holiday break. In a rare case of generosity, Zelda only made them run through one song before allowing them to spend the rest of the lesson talking. 

She wanted to pull Prudence aside after class, invite her over to the house to spend some of the Solstice with her sister. But there was no discreet way to accomplish this, their cover for Prudence spending more time with and at the Spellmans hadn’t been put in place yet—classes for next semester not having started yet. That and they’d decided to wait until after the new year to reveal Leticia; hoping the timing would throw some of the cleverer coven members off their scent. Which meant, Prudence couldn’t get away from her sisters so easily. 

So, instead, she wished the girl a bright Solstice and gave her a small smile as she left the room. Prudence seemed to understand and inclined her chin minutely in response. It wasn’t enough, but it was something. 

Later that night, after dinner and putting Letty to bed, Zelda settled in the office to read her paper and figure out excuses to have Prudence over at the house more. It would be good for both Prudence and Leticia to be close to one another, and, honestly, Sabrina needed more witch friends. That, that and Zelda wanted to be there for the girl… she couldn’t quite pinpoint why, the reasons floating just out of reach. Before she could grasp them, a loud crash sounded from the parlor. 

Rushing in, Zelda found Hilda already in the room, upset over the fallen tree. It was only when Zelda raised her eyes to find the cause of the damage that she gasped. “Hilda, the Yule log.” She murmured, horrified. Touching Hilda’s shoulder, Zelda was already turning to head up the stairs. “Relight the damn thing. I’ll warn Sabrina and Ambrose.” 

Zelda ran upstairs, heart pounding. There were tales about what happened to witches when the Yule log went out; creatures pouring through the portal and wrecking mayhem, possessing bodies and killing. How their log had gone from burning brightly not even 15 minutes ago when Zelda checked on it to completely out… it didn’t matter now; they were at risk. 

She came up to Sabrina’s room first, not bothering to knock. “Sabrina, the Yule log’s gone out!” She announced, throwing the door open and expecting to find Sabrina either asleep or reading in bed. What she found instead was painful. “Diana,” she breathed, as the specter pivoted to face her. 

Sharp pains shot through Zelda’s heart as she made eye contact with Diana, pains that did not dissipate once the woman disappeared; the connection holding her to this plane gone. It wasn’t fair, or right, to be jealous of Diana. To feel physical pain because Sabrina summoned her mother after so recently proclaiming Zelda was like one to her. 

If anything, Zelda should understand. Should understand the bone deep desire to have one’s mother back, in any capacity, for any amount of time. How often had she contemplated holding a séance? Or considered summoning her mother using spells of questionable origin? 

But instead of soothing, this knowledge twisted the knife deeper, nicking all her weak spots. Because it meant, despite Sabrina’s admission of Zelda being like a mother, that Zelda would _never_ be enough for Sabrina. Never be what her girl needed. Always leaving a hole, one so big Sabrina felt the need to put the Yule log out and endanger them all in a desperate attempt to speak with Diana. 

The thought spurred another, that this was Zelda’s doing. Her words to Sabrina, telling her she was like a daughter to her, had motivated this. That her niece had felt obligated to return the sentiment and been wracked with guilt so intense since she’d been compelled to summon Diana and apologize for the betrayal. 

Was this why Sabrina seemed to miss her parents more this holiday than any before? How could Zelda have missed the signs? Been so foolish as to believe Sabrina felt the same and not see the guilt her girl had over the statement. Such guilt that she’d risked evil coming through the portal with Diana. 

As these thoughts swirled tumultuously through Zelda, Sabrina simply stood and stared at the now crumpled dress, her back to Zelda. When she slowly turned, there were tears on her cheeks. 

And though she wanted to comfort her niece, Zelda held back for a multitude of reasons. Primary being that Sabrina wouldn’t want it; she’d gone and held a séance to speak to her dead mother over coming to Zelda or Hilda, after all. Why would she settle for Zelda’s comfort when she hadn’t even settled for her for a conversation? 

“Sabrina…” She managed, proud of how steady her voice was, not a hint of her inner turmoil making itself known. 

Twisting her hands, Sabrina looked at her guiltily, though her eyes were still bright with tears. “Aunt Zelda, I can explain everything.” She whispered. 

Lips pressed together, Zelda clenched her fists so her nails bit into her palms, needing some clarity and she knew the pain—however minor—would provide it. All her feelings aside at what had occurred, Sabrina had still endangered them all and needed to have a damn good reason for it. “I think you’d better.” Inhaling slowly to keep her voice even, Zelda turned to weird sisters. “And as for you three, haven’t you got to get back to the academy for some sort of bed check?” Her tone had more of an edge than she’d planned, but it got the trio up and moving quickly and without a word. Prudence hesitated, just for a second, and caught Zelda’s eye. But her expression must have discouraged whatever Prudence had thought to say in explanation and the girl hastily followed her sisters out. 

Once they left, Zelda shook her head slightly, spun around and marched from the room, not waiting for Sabrina to explain; Ambrose still needed to be warned. 

Ambrose was stunned when she informed him. “She what?! I explicitly told her not—” 

The words had Zelda freezing in the doorway, having already started to make her way back down the stairs. “ _You knew_?” She ground out, the lights flickering a bit before she reined herself back in. She knew she was more upset and hurt by Diana’s appearance than mad at Ambrose, but this couldn’t keep happening. “You **cannot** keep hiding these things from Hilda and I. When Sabrina comes to you with some dangerously asinine plan like performing a resurrection or hosting a séance on Solstice, you **have to** come to us.” And though her sentence started out as a growl, it ended in as a plea. 

Hanging his head, Ambrose nodded. “I understand, Auntie. I thought I’d gotten through to her this time, didn’t think she’d convince others to join her. Besides, I like to think she listens to me every now and then. Even if she doesn’t, I try to keep her confidence where I can… who else would she turn to?” 

And though Ambrose certainly didn’t mean to, the words compounded the pain sitting heavily in Zelda’s chest. Because they inferred Sabrina could not come to her. 

Licking her lips, Zelda turned away once more. “Family meeting in the parlor. Check the house for malevolent beings before you join us.” She threw over her shoulder, stopping in her bedroom to check on Leticia and cast a few extra spells just in case, on her way downstairs. 

She’d barely taken a seat across from Sabrina, Hilda hovering anxiously behind her chair, when Sabrina started to defend herself. 

“I swear, Aunt Zelda, I didn’t put out the Yule log.” Their niece stated, looking contrite yet somehow defiant at the same time. 

The denial burned Zelda. She was already raw from Diana’s appearance and its implications; she didn’t need Sabrina lying to her on top of it. In any case, after everything Sabrina had done since her birthday and rejected dark baptism, putting out the Yule log would hardly seem like anything to her niece. “Oh, I see, so it is a mere coincidence that the Yule log, _lit to keep away **all** unearthly things, including spirits, was unlit at the exact time you decided to convene with your mother’s ghost_?” 

She didn’t let Sabrina get further than the acknowledgement that the situation looked exactly as it seemed. 

“And tell me, why tonight, of all nights, on the eve of the Solstice, did you suddenly feel the need to contact your mother?” She looked at Sabrina expectantly, why couldn’t this child think things through, for once? 

Sabrina answered quickly. “It wasn’t sudden, Aunt Zelda. I saw my mom trapped in limbo and I wanted to release her.” 

Blinking, Zelda glanced back at Hilda to gauge if her sister had known about Diana’s predicament. She seemed just as stunned as Zelda. Though, looking back, neither one of them had talked to Sabrina about her time in mortal limbo. They knew, of course, what had resulted from the trip, the death and pain; but they’d never asked what else she might have seen or experienced in the dreadful place. 

Clearly, they should have. 

“If that’s true, why in Satan’s name didn’t you tell us?” Zelda demanded, fatigue creeping into her tone. “We could have helped you and Diana.” 

Brow furrowing, Sabrina looked between them. “You would have done that?” 

The question hit Zelda dully, and she knew it wounded Hilda as well. How could Sabrina doubt them? Doubt they’d help? After everything they’d done in the past two months, after every time she’d come to them and they’d helped—perhaps reluctantly at times, but helped nonetheless—how could she doubt them? 

It was only when Sabrina tried to do things on her own, flying in the face of advice from older, more experienced witches that things went awry; such as with the resurrection. Did she truly not understand what family meant to them, what she and Hilda would and had done to protect their family? Zelda couldn’t help but voice this, at least in part. Before Sabrina could respond, Ambrose strode into the room, stating nothing malevolent had gotten in; either that or it’d left when the Yule log was relit. 

He paused, teasingly, next to her and when the device slowed in its spinning he harrumphed in faux confusion. But Zelda was in no mood for his antics, still frustrated he’d known Sabrina wanted to contact Diana and said nothing. Shooting a glare his way, Zelda pushed out of her chair, instructed everyone to sleep with a lit warding candle and made for bed. She should have known better than to hope for a peaceful Solstice. Things had been going too well for her lately, it’d only been a matter of time until the other shoe dropped. Hopefully this was the extent of it. 

Catching her arm, Hilda asked if she should stay in their old bedroom with her. Though immensely grateful, Zelda couldn’t help but think Hilda was only offering to ensure Zelda didn’t try to punish herself. 

The thought had crossed her mind, that she deserved it; for not asking Sabrina more about limbo, for leaving the Yule log unattended, for thinking their family—as odd and sometimes broken it may be—was enough for their niece. She’d been lax in more ways than one and had she not promised to no longer practice such harmful habits, it was probable Zelda would have found herself with a whip in her hand. 

Regardless of Hilda’s reasoning, it would be nice not to have to sit up alone all night, worrying over every creak and groan that sounded from this old house settling and wondering if it was more. So, Zelda coolly accepted the offer and marched upstairs, telling Hilda not to snore least she wake Leticia. 

Unperturbed by Zelda’s prickly behavior, Hilda slipped her arm through Zelda’s as they made their way upstairs. “We’ll be fine,” she murmured as they entered the bedroom, waving her hand so a second bed appeared, and Zelda’s shrunk to accommodate it. “The log was only out for a moment; Ambrose checked the house…. We’ll be okay, Zelds.” Hilda repeated, pulling Zelda into a somewhat reluctant hug, rubbing a hand up and down Zelda’s back a little more firmly than strictly necessary. As if trying to convey she knew what Zelda’s thoughts had been and was now trying to tell her she’d done the right thing in not practicing flagellation. 

Hiding her gratitude for Hilda’s presence, Zelda merely nodded, returned the hug briefly and pulled back to check on Letty once more. Together they placed several warding candles around the room, lit them and then climbed into bed; turning off their lamp. 

After a moment, Hilda rolled to face her, features barely discernible in the dim light. “Zelds?” 

“Yes, Hilda?” 

“We’re still her mothers. Just because she wanted to speak with and help Diana doesn’t mean she thinks any less of us.” Hilda whispered, and Zelda hated that her sister could read her tormented thoughts so well. 

Sighing, Zelda shifted to face Hilda. “We are, at least in our minds.” She smiled sadly and then turned over to not only hide the few tears that leaked down her cheeks from Hilda, but also so she could watch Leticia in her crib—the only child in the house that was truly hers. 

~~~~~~~~~ 

The next morning, Zelda was determined not to show how much the events from the night before affected her. Which was how she found herself to be playing peek-a-boo with Letty in the kitchen while Hilda made breakfast. Well, that and she couldn’t resist the game when it made the girl smile and flail happily at her. 

“Do you see that smile, sister?” Zelda asked, not taking her eyes off Leticia. “She will be the most advanced child of her age. Already smiling and she’s not even a month old yet.” 

Chuckling, Hilda shook her head from where she stood by the stove. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, Zelds.” She teased, glancing over but smiling at them all the same. Arching a brow, Zelda turned back to her game with Leticia. Moments later Sabrina walked into the kitchen, chewing her lip slightly. 

“Morning, aunties,” she greeted them. 

Hilda beamed at Sabrina, “oh, blessed morning, darling.” 

Certainly nowhere near in such a forgiving mood, Zelda stopped her game with Letty and straightened up. “It is a blessed morning,” she repeated dryly, “considering none of us had our throats slit by malevolencies during the night.” 

“Aunt Zelda, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my mom. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.” Sabrina looked at her and played with the necklace Zelda had given her. “In fact, it was the exact opposite.” 

And though the words partially soothed some of the wounds Sabrina unknowingly inflicted the night before, her niece’s continued recklessness couldn’t be left unaddressed. And she told Sabrina as much. 

Of course, though, Sabrina was indignant about the lecture. “So, you’re allowed to take in a fugitive baby and hide her from the coven and the Dark Lord, but I’m not allowed to want to contact my own mother? To want to help her?” 

How was Sabrina missing the point? Zelda had addressed this last night, told Sabrina she and Hilda would have helped contact Diana and save her. That was family. The reason she was upset was the timing of it all. Barely restraining an eye roll, Zelda answered. “Of course you are, but not at the risk of everyone in this house.” 

“I didn’t put out—” Sabrina began to object. 

Zelda interrupted her, not wanting to hear another lie. “Oh, fine, Sabrina. I believe you.” It wasn’t true, and she knew Sabrina sensed that as well, her tone hadn’t been hard to miss. But it was easier to let the matter rest than to continually argue about it. Softening, Zelda tilted her head at Sabrina. “And I’m sorry you didn’t get what you wanted from Diana. Perhaps in the new year, we can **all** try contacting her again.” Both Sabrina and Hilda looked at her with some surprise, and it stung a bit how her family was continually stunned when she made such suggestions—their reactions had been similar when she said they’d protect the town from the Thirteen. Clearing her throat, Zelda excused herself, scooped up Leticia and went upstairs to give the babe a bath. 

Watching her sister disappear upstairs, Hilda’s mouth tugged to the side. Zelda had every right to be upset with Sabrina’s actions, holding a séance on the Solstice was no small thing, Hilda was no less dismayed by their niece’s actions. But she also knew Zelda was trying to hide the hurt that seeing Diana again had caused. While she may be able to somewhat hide it from Sabrina, she couldn’t hide it from Hilda. Sabrina speaking caught her attention. 

“What did I do wrong, Aunt Hilda?” She asked, looking at Hilda earnestly. 

Lifting a brow, Hilda started chopping the food in front of her again. “Séance on the Solstice aside,” she remarked, giving Sabrina a knowing look to which the girl ducked her head, Hilda continued. “Aside from that,” she sighed and glanced towards the stairs where Zelda had disappeared. “It’s not you, my love, it’s Zelds. You may have noticed, but she’s a hard woman, your aunt. Slow to trust, to let people in.” Hilda smiled sadly, thinking how, even recently, she’d learned Zelda was still working to let her in. To let Hilda see all of her layers and depths, to trust. Shaking her head, Hilda came back to the conversation. “Zelda was, well, she was just very cold with your mum. She feared what would happen, your mum being a mortal and all. So, she never let Diana into her heart, never fully accepted her as family, you know? And then…” 

“And then,” Sabrina repeated, eyes dropping to the table, “mom and dad died.” 

Nodding solemnly, Hilda pressed her lips together. “Yeah. Zelda always regretted the bad blood between them. Her and both your parents. She fought with them, constantly. I mean… she never said it, the regret, but…” Trailing off, Hilda reached across the counter and squeezed Sabrina’s hand. “I think that’s part of why she’s so heaven-bent on protecting you. You know, like she has something to prove.” 

Hilda’s mind flashed back to her conversation with Zelda where she’d told secrets she’d been carrying for years. How her sister claimed she’d had to shoulder the burden alone because Edward had begged her after Sabrina’s first dark baptism, because she’d felt she had to prove she was strong enough to be the new head of the Spellman house once Edward was murdered. 

Yes, Zelda had certainly felt she had quite a lot to prove. On top of protecting the family against very real threats that Hilda had been unaware of until recently, Zelda had also felt the need to prove herself to their dead sister-in-law. No wonder Zelda was such a ‘hard woman’, what else could she be given the circumstances? 

Eyes glazing over with tears, Sabrina sighed. “I keep making messes, don’t I?” 

An understatement to say the least, but Hilda just widened her eyes and hummed in agreement. “Though you do your fair share of cleaning them up.” She added, as Sabrina moved to the fridge and pulled out a bottle. “What’s that?” 

It was eggnog for Mr. Kinkle, to stop him from drinking. And though Hilda knew she should scold Sabrina for meddling in mortal affairs, Zelda certainly would’ve, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It was safe enough, and besides both Sabrina and Harvey needed a win and this would certainly provide it. 

So, she let Sabrina go off to the Kinkle house, and she continued to prepare the Solstice meal in the kitchen. All the while thinking of how she would need to find better hiding places for her secret recipes. 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

After bathing Leticia, Zelda stayed upstairs in her room. It wasn’t that she was avoiding her family, of course not, it was just that it would be time for Letty’s nap soon enough and there was no reason to haul the girl downstairs and then right back up again. 

The sound of glass smashing drew Zelda out of her thoughts. Brow furrowing, Zelda glanced towards the door. “Sabrina, is that you?” She called out, thinking her niece might have followed her up the stairs to make amends. 

Leticia wailing recaptured Zelda’s attention and she turned to try and soothe the girl, unsure what had caused the sudden change in mood. Rocking the bassinet, Zelda attempted another game of peek-a-boo which seemed to work. 

Suddenly, the sewing machine started, dragging the half-finished embroidery underneath the needle as it worked. Zelda stood warily and approached the machine in a few quick steps, wanting to see what trick this was or if Leticia’s powers were manifesting themselves this early. 

_WE HAVE YOUR BABY_

It read in red thread. Panic she’d only known once before seized Zelda. It was like the time Sabrina wandered away from her and Hilda at the witching market when she was six. The terror that something or someone dark had snatched her girl consuming her. 

Only this time, this time there was no room for hope it was indeed just a mistake of the child wandering off, something bright catching her eye. No, this time a message had been left, and a clear one at that. They had her baby. 

“Leticia,” she breathed, whipping back around to the bassinet Letty had been occupying just seconds before only to find it empty; just as the spirits promised. Zelda knew, she knew something else had gotten in last night. But without any signs of malevolence there’d been nothing more to do then light warding candles. She should have insisted they keep the candles lit, should have checked the house herself after Ambrose… just to be sure. But now wasn’t the time for regrets and self-remonstrations, she **had** to find Letty. “Leticia!” She shouted, looking around the room to no avail. Breath coming in quick, insufficient bursts, Zelda careened out the door when she heard children’s laughter and running footsteps, Hilda’s name already on her lips. “Hilda!” 

Her sister rounded the corner, flushed and glancing around, evidencing she’d already encountered the spirits as well. “What?! What’s happened?” 

“It’s the baby—” 

“What?” 

“Leticia’s missing. They have her.” She informed Hilda shakily, eyes wild and body tense. Just then they heard Letty cry and they both darted into Sabrina’s room, trying to chase the spirits’ cruel laughter and find her child. 

But the damned things were toying with them, Leticia’s cries and their laughter echoing around the house, doors slamming at random to draw them to various rooms. Zelda could hardly breathe, what if they kept her? What if they hurt her? What if, what if, what if? 

Dark, horrifying thoughts bounced around her head as she and Hilda split up to search the first floor, hurtling from one room to the next, trying to pinpoint Leticia’s wails of distress. But she couldn’t find her. She wasn’t in the front hall, not in the parlor and she’d heard nothing from her sister. 

“Hilda?!” She called out, barging into the kitchen to tell her sister she was going to the basement only to see Leticia in her arms. 

“Oh, Zelda,” Hilda murmured, taking a few steps towards her to hand over the babe. 

Rushing over, Zelda quickly took Leticia from Hilda’s arms, tears welling in her eyes as she cradled her sweet girl close and placed soft kisses on her head. “It’s okay,” she whispered, “mommy’s here.” 

Distressed, Hilda brought her hands to her temple. “She was in the oven. _I was preheating it!_ ” Her voice went up several octaves, guilt written across her face. 

Though horrified, Zelda pulled Hilda into a one-armed hug, Leticia still clutched to her chest. “You could **never** have known. What matters is you found her.” She managed thickly, pulling back and bouncing slightly to calm Letty down. 

Nodding, Hilda kept a hand on Zelda’s arm. “She’s fine. She’s fine. But, Zelds, look.” She turned partially and pointed to where several footprints had appeared in a spilled flour. 

It was then she noticed the knives embedded in the kitchen floor, forming a neat circle. Zelda turned to Hilda and squeezed her hand. “Are you alright?” She nodded towards the utensils, only imagining how her sister had been tormented with them before the near fatal attack. 

Before Hilda could answer, Ambrose came barging into the kitchen, breathless. 

“And where have you been?” Zelda asked, giving him a quick once over to ensure he was alright. There was no way he hadn’t heard them dashing around and shouting for Leticia and one another. 

Visibly shaken, Ambrose shook his head. “Tying down all the corpses in the embalming room, bolting all the hatches shut.” Both she and Hilda moved towards him, knowing exactly what must have happened. But before they could express any concern, Ambrose continued. “We have an infestation. We have poltergeists, Aunties.” 

A shuddering exhale escaped Zelda, poltergeists didn’t go so far as to steal infants and hide them in ovens that were on, didn’t try to kill; play tricks, yes, but not kill. “Not quite.” She contradicted him, though she wasn’t able to explain further, the front door slammed, interrupting her and causing them all to jump. 

“Wha—, what now?” Hilda demanded, as they all froze for a moment, waiting for any additional noises. 

Ambrose grimly snatched one of the knives not currently buried in the floor and led the way into the foyer, Zelda and Hilda quickly following. 

It was Sabrina. The smile slipped from her face when she saw them. “What’s going on?” 

The tension drained out of them at the realization that the spirits weren’t playing any more tricks; for now. Biting her tongue to hold back that ‘what was going on’ was exactly what could have been avoided had Sabrina not doused the fire last night, Zelda made for the parlor; the others filtering in behind her. 

Once they were all settled in with drinks, Hilda voiced what Zelda had been thinking before Sabrina came home. “So, it’s not poltergeists, it’s the Yule Lads.” 

Bringing her eyes up from Leticia, though she made sure to keep a hand on the girl’s leg just in case, Zelda elaborated. “Impish spirits of children that come down from the mountains every midwinter to cause mischief in the unguarded homes of witches.” She took a sip of her whiskey. “They must have gotten in when the Yule fire went out.” Though she looked meaningfully at Sabrina when she said the last part, Zelda didn’t repeat her belief that her niece put it out herself so she could accomplish what she wanted. 

“Right, so we banish the buggers.” Ambrose stated, clapping his hands together and looking between them as if to ask why they were waiting. 

Hilda sighed tiredly. “Well, that’s not so easy, love.” She remarked, slumping a little further in her chair. “The Yule Lads are like bedbugs. Once they get in your house, they’re difficult to get rid of.” 

Sensing her sister’s fatigue, Zelda explained further. “Indeed, they won’t leave until their mother tells them to.” 

A soft snort escaped Hilda at the mention of the witch. “Their ‘mother’ being Gryla.” 

Zelda went on to explain who Gryla was, her horrendous act of eating her child, the betrayal she felt when the other witch broke the pact. And how for the past thousand years, Gryla attempted to replace her lost child by taking others; specifically, orphans or those who weren’t with their biological parents. 

Because of this, this entitlement Gryla felt when it came to any child not with blood relatives, countless witching families guarded their homes vigilantly during the Solstice. Abigail and Rebecca—and many couples like them—took potions so both were awake the entire Solstice to ensure the Yule log never went out; least their adopted children be taken. 

Despite their legal guardianship of their boys in the eyes of the coven and law, Gryla would take them regardless; believing she was taking them into the family they truly belonged to. And now, now the Yule Lads were in their home… where they were housing a child away from her biological family. Regardless of Faustus’ awareness of the situation, of his consent, Gryla would still try and take Leticia. Zelda should have stayed with the Yule log all night as well, she should have… 

“What do we do?” Sabrina questioned, interrupting Zelda’s thoughts, and Ambrose leaned forward to hear the plan as well. 

Resisting the urge to light a cigarette, Zelda sighed. “We summon Gryla, then make her an offering in exchange for gathering up her Yule Lads. But first, Ambrose,” she turned to look at her nephew, “you’re going to have to get out of the house.” 

Frowning, Ambrose looked at them all dubiously. “Why is that?” He asked slowly. 

Zelda shared a quick look with Hilda and then blurted it out. “Gryla was abandoned by her husband and she doesn’t like men.” Though if her spouse had eaten their only children Zelda knew for a fact that she’d have abandoned them as well—if not killed them. Of course, Gryla didn’t see it that way. 

Poorly suppressing a smile, Hilda added on. “She does like eating them.” 

Appalled, Ambrose announced he had a party to go to, Luke had invited him. With a curt nod, Ambrose quickened from the room. 

“We’ll also have to hide Leticia while Gryla’s here or she’ll try and take her and add Letty to her retinue.” Zelda murmured, and her first instinct was to contact Faustus and give Leticia to him for the night. But as high priest he had to oversee various Solstice rites at the church, which meant he was surrounded by acolytes and Judas at home with a nanny—and seeing as how no one else in the coven could know of Leticia yet, neither of those were options. 

Sabrina spoke up then. “I can take her, Auntie. She’s family now, and you’ve protected me all these years. It’s the least I can do.” 

The words melted Zelda’s heart, and she smiled softly and nodded. With that they started their preparations; setting out offerings and ridding the first floor of any sign of Leticia. While the Yule Lads knew of Leticia, they wouldn’t know of her nonblood-related status and therefore wouldn’t share with Gryla about the girl’s presence. 

Once she and Hilda ensured Ambrose was indeed gone and everything else was in place, Zelda carried Leticia down to the basement with Sabrina and Salem in tow. When Sabrina took a seat on the stool, Zelda carefully handed Letty over, making sure her pacifier was in place. 

“If you need anything—” She began, fussing with Leticia’s blanket. 

Sabrina lifted a brow and smiled wryly. “We won’t. It’s not like I can waltz upstairs while Gryla is here to ask for help anyway. I’ve got this, Auntie Zee, don’t worry.” 

Smiling, Zelda bent and kissed Leticia’s head and dropped one on top of Sabrina’s as well before heading back up the stairs, pausing just a moment to look at her girls together before making her way up and closing the door firmly behind her. 

When she made it back to the kitchen, she spun her rings nervously and turned to Hilda, “ready?” 

“Are you sure you don’t want to contact Father Blackwood first?” Hilda asked, hunching her shoulders a bit. 

Zelda shook her head. “You know we can’t. Gryla eats men, she’s a thousand years old and far more powerful than Faustus and us because of it. Besides, he’s in the middle of Solstice rites, I could hardly interrupt without looking suspicious and drawing attention from the entire coven and therefore putting Letty at risk anyway. No,” Zelda repeated, almost to herself, “we cannot call him. We can handle Gryla on our own.” 

And so, they summoned the witch. 

~~~~~~~ 

Gryla had drank the last of the gin and eaten three mince pies before Zelda couldn’t handle the witch’s presence any longer. 

“Is that sufficient?” And though it was a question, Zelda was already standing from the table, her tone indicating their offering had, indeed, been just that. 

The witch smiled and stood, declaring it enough and summoned the Yule Lads with a swift shake of the bells she wore on her hip. The spirits giggled and made their way out the side door, knocking over as many things on their way as they could. 

Neither Zelda or Hilda said a word though, they were almost rid of her and the impish spirits, a few messes was nothing to complain about. It was then a thin, wailing cry echoed up from the basement and Gryla froze. 

“A baby?” She turned slowly, “you have a _baby_ here?” 

Swallowing hard, Zelda pressed her lips together. “Damn it,” she whispered, her entire body tightening in anticipation. She glanced at Hilda who was twisting her hands, but remained silent, unsure how to deny what Gryla had so obviously heard. “Just the TV,” Zelda attempted to lie, stubbing her cigarette out with more force than necessary. “Our niece, Sabrina, we’re constantly telling her to turn the blasted thing down. But she’s in this phase where she doesn’t listen to a thing we—” 

The rest of her sentence was cut off; Gryla sweeping her hand through the air in mimic of a backhand slap—the force of which Zelda felt and it sent her stumbling back, clutching her cheek. 

“Don’t lie to me, sister.” Gryla growled. “I am **far** more powerful than you and know that it was a real babe who cried, I can sense her. Your spells hid her well, just not well enough.” She sneered at them and then lifted Zelda by the throat with another whispered spell. When Hilda cried out in alarm, Gryla turned to her. “Go, get the babe and bring her to me in your sitting room and I might just be merciful with your sister.” 

Squeaking, Hilda hurried off despite Zelda’s strangled protest. Once her sister was out of sight, Gryla lowered Zelda to the floor, dealt her another magical backhand and then strode into the parlor. Reeling from the various assaults, Zelda followed, casting a quick glamor spell to hide the evidence of the violence from Sabrina who would no doubt come up the stairs as well. 

She came to a stop in front of the fireplace, and soon Hilda and Sabrina joined—standing on either side of her, Leticia still in her niece’s arms. 

“That babe isn’t yours, Zelda Spellman. I can smell it. I have a greater right to it than you do.” Gryla tilted her head and assessed her. “I’ve been a mother, you haven’t.” 

Sabrina shifted next to her, but the girl said nothing, merely held onto Leticia and glared at Gryla. And while Zelda wanted to exclaim that while she wasn’t technically a mother, at least she hadn’t eaten any of the children in her charge. But she knew bringing up Gryla’s firstborn would be a death wish, tipping up her chin defiantly, Zelda argued. “I delivered the child. That’s my claim.” 

It wasn’t the claim she’d have liked to make, but Zelda couldn’t very well tell Gryla that Leticia wasn’t an orphan. Though the woman could tell she wasn’t blood-related to Leticia, Gryla’s abilities didn’t extend so far as to tell her if the child had living parents. And as much as a threat as Gryla was, the Dark Lord would be _far greater_ if it was revealed she and Faustus hid a child from him. So, Zelda staked what claim she could and stood firm, eyes blazing. 

The witch scoffed at her, “a midwife is not a mother.” And before Zelda could react, Gryla called over her shoulder. “Lads, bring the babe to me.” 

Zelda glanced around as the Yule Lads’ laughter bounced through the room. She couldn’t fight spirits. Heaven, she couldn’t even fight the witch in front of her… well, she could, but she wouldn’t win. No matter how powerful she was, Gryla was a thousand years old and that afforded her an immense amount of power Zelda couldn’t hope to overcome. 

But Zelda refused to let this woman who **ate** her own child take hers. Widening her stance and flexing her hands, a spell started to brew in her fingertips when a disembodied voice spoke. 

“Leave the baby alone.” And suddenly, Diana reappeared, in an unfamiliar white dress and a gold crown upon her head. The entire room was stunned. “I will decide who deserves the babe.” 

Recovered, Gryla lifted a brow minutely. “You?” She repeated, unimpressed. “By what right?” 

Equally as calm, Diana looked Gryla in the eye. “A mother’s right.” She glanced at Sabrina and then back to Gryla. “I too, lost my child. It was she who invoked my spirit.” Diana continued to explain how she came to be there, why she had the authority she did. And when she asked if they agreed, Zelda felt there was no other option but to say yes. 

While she had no clue as to what was happening, it was reasonable to believe Diana was on their side. Despite their troubled past, certainly Diana wouldn’t allow this witch to steal Leticia. When Gryla begrudgingly accepted Diana’s authority as well, the knot that had formed in Zelda’s chest the moment Leticia cried out eased; just a bit. 

But the test Diana announced was barbaric. They were to play tug-of-war with Leticia to determine who should love and care for her? And while Zelda openly expressed her horror, a small smirk touched on Gryla’s lips. 

“Accepted.” 

Seeing no other choice, Zelda set her shoulders and swallowed her fear. “Accepted.” She managed, trying to think of potential spells she could cast to tip the scales in her favor. No one had said she couldn’t blast Gryla backwards and safely pull Leticia out of the circle before the woman recovered. 

A circle of black salt appeared in the middle of the floor and Diana instructed Sabrina to place Letty in the middle of it. Sabrina hesitated, and glanced at Zelda who wanted nothing more than to grab her family and teleport away—but it was too late, Gryla and her Yule Lads were in their home and would likely stay until custody was determined. 

As Sabrina moved forward and set her babe on the ground, Zelda couldn’t help but think she should have sent Sabrina and Leticia away before they even summoned Gryla. Should have sent them anywhere but let them stay here. The past couldn’t be changed, though, her only way forward was this sick game. 

Kneeling on the floor, she and Gryla each took one of Leticia’s arms. Before they began Diana spoke up once more. “No magic may be used in this contest; it must be a battle of will alone.” 

Zelda squeezed her eyes shut at the stipulation, but it was for the best. Gryla had likely considered cheating as well, and she’d have cheated better. Inhaling deeply, Zelda opened her eyes and Diana instructed them to begin. 

All she could do at first was hold onto Leticia, unable to drag the girl across the floor to her side. But as she felt Gryla pulling, Zelda realized she’d have to do more. Forcing her tears back, Zelda began to pull as well. 

Leticia screamed, fat tears rolling down her cheeks as she began to twist this way and that. The sound tore Zelda’s heart to shreds but still she held on; Gryla appeared unaffected. By as the screams grew, Zelda couldn’t. She couldn’t hurt Letty. And she knew, deep down, that Gryla would never let go, she’d prefer to rip her babe apart than to let Zelda keep her. 

With immense effort, Zelda jerked her hand way. “Stop!” She shouted, standing swiftly and going to Hilda’s side. “I won’t do it. I won’t tear her to pieces.” She informed them shakily, Hilda’s arm slipping around her waist as the other gripped her forearm—grounding her. 

“Then the baby is Gryla’s.” Diana stated, face blank. 

Stunned, Zelda’s knees weakened and Hilda’s hold on her tightened. “ **No!** ” She’d done the right thing, she’d protected Letty, had refused to hurt her… how could Diana give Leticia to the monster who’d consumed her own child? 

Sabrina turned to her then. “Sorry, Aunt Zelda, but fair is fair.” 

Horrified, Zelda looked at Sabrina, unable to process what she’d just said. ‘Fair is fair?’ What in Heaven did that even mean? What— 

But Gryla picking up Leticia and telling her to come to mother recaptured Zelda’s attention and she took an involuntary step towards them; only Hilda’s arm around her kept her in place. And with a triumphant and cruel smile, Gryla wished them a bright Solstice, called out to her Yule Lads and strode out of the house. 

Zelda stood there, shocked, tears streaming down her face. She couldn’t move. Leticia was gone. 

She should have fought, regardless of the danger to her own life. She should have screamed and scratched and thrown curses and hexes until Gryla crushed the breath from her lungs for good. She should have died before letting Gryla take Leticia. That’s what a _real_ mother would have done. 

But then again, as Gryla had so concisely pointed out, she wasn’t a real mother. 

Despite that, she’d trusted Diana. Trusted the apparition had what was best for them in mind. She never should have believed the being was on their side. Who could even say the apparition was actually Diana? It had just appeared, using her form… anything could have appeared and taken it on to trick them. Or maybe it truly was Diana and she was getting back at Zelda for her coldness when the woman was alive. Her mind continued to pinball through possibilities and should-haves, each one darker than the last. 

Hilda spoke then, addressing Sabrina, but it was as if Zelda were underwater; all sounds were muffled. It was only when Sabrina reached over and touched her arm, stating they’d never have given Leticia up to Gryla that the world snapped back into place. 

“What?” Zelda whispered tremulously, not trusting herself to have heard the words properly. 

Smiling at her, Sabrina stepped closer. “Leticia is fine and here with us, where she belongs.” 

Her knees gave out completely then, relief flooding through her as Hilda helped her to one of the chairs where Zelda collapsed. Burying her head in her hands, Zelda tried to contain her tears, Hilda’s hand running soothingly up and down her back. 

When she finally regained herself, Zelda lifted her gaze and Sabrina held out a hand for her to take and led Zelda down to the morgue. Leticia was there, laying in her basket; Salem keeping guard from his position curled up by the babe’s head, purring quietly. 

A shuddering breath escaped Zelda as she hurried over. Salem carefully unwound himself and leapt from the basket, butting his head against Zelda’s side when she came to a stop next to the table and reached out a hand to touch Letty, reassuring herself the babe was safe. 

Clearing her throat, Zelda shook her head. “What did you give Gryla, then?” 

Sabrina went on to explain she’d pulled a changeling trick, enchanted a toy to look like Leticia, how Diana had been the one to make it all possible. 

Guilt swept through Zelda for her earlier thoughts, for believing Diana would seek revenge on her by stealing her child from her. Well, she could at least do something to partially mend the bridge between herself and her sister-in-law. 

“Diana, thank you.” She murmured, turning to look at the woman, but Diana was gone. Before they could deduce what happened, someone banged on the front door. 

Warily, they trooped upstairs, Leticia held securely in Zelda’s arms. If it truly was Gryla, if she’d already caught onto Sabrina’s trick and was back to claim Leticia, well, at least they had a few things on their side this time. 

The first being that the Yule Lads were no longer in the house, and they couldn’t enter again with the log lit, meaning they couldn’t steal Letty as they had before. This also meant they had no reason to invite Gryla inside. Yes, she could force her way in eventually, but certain customs, especially those surrounding Solstice and witches such as Gryla, held power and were difficult to break—which was why she’d had to offer an invitation to Gryla when they summoned her earlier. 

Also, Zelda also had more protective spells on the house than most covens had on their churches—this would buy them some time. What they would do in the long run, though, was something Zelda had yet to figure out. And when they reached the front door, she realized it wasn’t something she’d need to concern herself with just yet; because it wasn’t Gryla at the door. It was Sabrina’s friend, Roz, going on about one of their other friends going missing and visions. 

As the others talked, Zelda suppressed a sigh. Of course, of course it was one disaster after the next; well, really it was one disaster on top of another, they still hadn’t fully dealt with the first one yet. But a Yule demon stealing children wasn’t something they could ignore. Neither was the fact that apparently Roz knew they were witches as well, but that was something to consider later; along with the fact that the girl had visions. 

“No need to be so baroque.” She muttered when Sabrina asked if they needed complicated spells to find the demon. Zelda deposited Letty into Hilda’s arms and marched over to the side table pressed against the wall. “The Greendale white pages.” Zelda announced to the group as she flipped through the pages until she found the right Bartel and read the address out loud. 

Eager to save her friend, Sabrina nodded. “Great, let’s go.” 

Holding up a finger, Zelda stalled her ever reckless niece. “Not so fast, Sabrina. Solstice is their time. Demons are very powerful tonight. We’re going to need a little help…” She groaned inwardly when she realized what she’d have to do. “Gryla can’t have gotten far, we’ll summon her back.” 

“Gryla? Why would we do that?” Sabrina looked at her as though she were crazy. 

And oh, didn’t she know it. It was insane to summon Gryla back, the witch would be far from pleased with them. But it was the only recourse if they were to save Susie and prevent any other children from being taken. “If we could handle a high demon like Bartel on our own I wouldn’t suggest it. But given the time of year… I won’t risk it. Besides, Bartel hurts children and there’s nothing Gryla detests more. 

Still unsure, Sabrina furrowed her brow. “But we tricked her. Won’t she be mad at us?” 

Hilda interjected then. “Oh, no, not if we lead her to the lair of a demon who preys on little ones.” 

It wasn’t a guarantee of anything, but it was near enough. Gryla had a reputation after all and perhaps in her triumph over a child-preying demon the witch would forget about Leticia and her desire to steal the child away. 

They didn’t have much time left, if they were to do this they’d have to hurry. “Rosalind, can you stay and mind baby Leticia?” Though she loathed the idea of leaving Letty in any capacity right now, when she was still so at risk, Zelda knew it was necessary. 

“Uh… sure?” The girl replied, taking Leticia into her arms and automatically bouncing a little. 

“Thank you,” Zelda replied before Roz had fully accepted. “If things go sideways at Bartel’s I don’t want to put any more mortals at risk.” She explained when Sabrina looked at her in confusion. “Come,” Zelda was already moving to put her coat on, Hilda and Sabrina following suit. 

Zelda only summoned Gryla once they were at Bartel’s house, unwilling to bring the witch closer to their home than necessary. 

She arrived in a maelstrom of wind and snow, forcing them to cover their faces. “You must have a death wish, Zelda Spellman.” Gryla growled, striding forward and gripping Zelda by the throat once more. “Why else would you summon me? Did you change your mind about the child?” 

Gritting her teeth, Zelda shook her head. “Never. She’s my daughter, she’ll never be yours.” She spat, and then she signaled Hilda and Sabrina to blast Gryla back at the same time as her. Gasping, Zelda rubbed her neck, but she didn’t give her voice a chance to recover; that would mean giving Gryla an opportunity to strike back and they couldn’t have that. “I brought you here to deal with a demon.” 

Slowly picking herself back up, Gryla cocked her head at them, power radiating off her in her anger. “You summoned me to do your dirty work? After that trick you pulled?” She advanced on them in long measured steps, but Zelda held firm, even if she pushed Sabrina and Hilda behind her. 

“A demon who preys on children. By the name Bartel.” Zelda informed Gryla, and the witch’s reaction was instantaneous. 

Rearing back, Gryla hissed. “That beast?! Here?” She demanded, closing the distance between them once more but, this time, with the intent to learn more rather than do harm. “Are you certain?” 

Zelda nodded. “Absolutely. He resides here and apparently takes children yearly and encases them in wax. A mortal child is trapped in there now and in need of rescuing. We’d do it ourselves, but…” 

Pacing restlessly, Gryla shook her head. “No. No, you were right to bring me here. I’ve been after this bastard for centuries. He will be handled and the mortal child saved, you have my word.” 

“We shall wait here should you need us. Though I expect we can just wait for the mortal child’s exit so we might take her home and you will be fine.” Zelda lifted a brow in question. 

A dismissive wave was all they got, Gryla already shaking her bells to summon her Yule Lads. “Do as you wish in terms of waiting; I do not want interference.” Without another word, she disappeared into the building and moments later Susie burst out. 

“Sabrina!” The girl exclaimed, rushing over. 

They quickly established that they wouldn’t tell Mr. Putnam the truth but instead dose him with some of Hilda’s short-term memory shortbread cookies to make him forget the whole ordeal. With a final glance towards the building, Zelda and Hilda ushered the children back to the car. 

~~~~~~ 

It seemed like ages before they returned home; Mr. Putnam not quite as willing to sit and eat cookies as they’d hoped when reunited with his child and no answers were being given. Eventually though, they’d handled everything and made it back. 

Ambrose was in the kitchen feeding Leticia when they all tiredly trudged into the room. “Where have you lot been?” He quirked a brow at them and Sabrina quickly explained the events following Roz’s appearance at their front door. 

“How’s Leticia faring?” Zelda asked, hurrying forward after divesting her coat in the foyer. 

Smiling, Ambrose set the bottle aside. “Not a cry since her bottle.” 

Chin wobbling, Zelda clutched her hands together in a poor attempt to stem the tears threatening to fall. “She’s a strong, brave girl.” She murmured tremulously, not quite managing to keep the emotion out of her voice. 

The others noticed and Sabrina frowned. “Aunt… Zelda? What is it?” 

With some effort, Zelda swallowed and a small gasp escaped her before she could speak. “I’ve made a decision…. About Leticia. I’m taking her to Abigail’s after the midwinter holiday. Ambrose was right. We can’t keep her a secret from the coven and Dark Lord forever. Not if she lives here. And what if, Satan forbid, Gryla were to come back next Solstice, or next week, for that matter?” Inhaling shakily Zelda nodded, trying to convince herself as much as her family. “The truth is, she’s not safe here.” 

Hilda peered at her, picking her hands. “She’s safer here than with her father.” 

Oh, Zelda knew that. Knew Leticia was safer here than revealed as Faustus’ firstborn. The coven would have a field day should they ever find out about the girl; and the prices Faustus and her whole family would pay for hiding Letty…. She shuddered to think. But she hadn’t come to this decision lightly. Far from it, she’d warred with herself the entire time they waited for Susie, while Sabrina, Hilda and Susie prodded Mr. Putnam to eat the cookies, the entire way home. 

This decision felt as though she were excising a piece of her heart. But it was necessary. Gryla was a real threat, and one that wasn’t likely to go away simply because she’d been distracted by a demon. The witch truly could come back at any time to exact her revenge for their trickery and Zelda refused to let that bitch near Leticia again. 

So, no. Regardless of how she felt about the whole thing, and while Letty was safer with them than with Faustus… it wasn’t the _safest_ she could be. And Zelda would be damned if she endangered her baby simply because keeping Leticia close was what she wanted. 

Squeezing her eyes shut, Zelda spun her rings roughly. “Abigail and Rebecca can raise her with their boys. They want another child, specifically a girl. No one will question if a new baby appears in their home, no one will question Leticia’s origins. And they’ll teach her the old ways, as is her birthright. They’ll,” sniffling, Zelda took a small step closer to Leticia. “They’ll love her as their own.” Dabbing at her eyes, Zelda forced herself to continue—if she told her family the whole plan then there was no way for her to change her mind, no way for her to back out. “Of course, I’ll visit her and provide for her, that’s only right. I’m…” And the words stuck in her throat, because it was accepting something she hadn’t wanted to since this whole evening began. “I’m her _Night_ Mother, after all.” 

Sabrina inched towards her, “Aunt Zee…” she murmured in a soft voice, eyes brimming with tears of her own. 

She couldn’t afford her family the opportunity to talk her out of this though. It would be so easy to let them, so easy to let them tell her all the reasons she should keep Leticia. But not **one** of those reasons could possibly outweigh Letty’s safety. 

Shaking her head, Zelda turned to her niece. “No, Sabrina, I’ve quite made up my mind.” She collected herself and forced the tears back and the emotions out of her voice. “Besides, I’ve got more than my hands full with you lot and Leticia couldn’t ask for better, better parents than Abigail and Rebecca.” 

Each member of her family looked ready to argue, so Zelda did the only thing she could, the only thing she wanted, pick up Letty. 

The mask she’d plastered on moments ago dropped away as she tearfully reached for her babe. “Let me take her, Ambrose.” 

Thankfully, Ambrose did as she asked and handed Leticia over to her. Carefully cradling the girl to her chest, Zelda made her way upstairs to put Letty to bed, and if her lips trembled and those tears finally fell on her way up, well, no one could see them at least. 

And though she’d told everyone she was going upstairs to put Leticia to bed, Zelda found that once she reached their room, she couldn’t bear to put the girl down. Not now that she knew she had such a limited amount of time left. Instead, Zelda sat on the edge of her bed and cuddled Letty closer, sniffling as she did. 

She wasn’t sure how long she was sitting there, but at some point Zelda realized she wasn’t alone anymore. Exhaling slowly, Zelda turned to tell her sister, who’d somehow managed to sneak into the room without her knowledge, to leave. 

Only it wasn’t Hilda. 

Diana stood before her. Or what was left of her, Diana’s corporeal form was a wisp of what it had been earlier; her body now transparent where before it’d been solid. Blinking, Zelda stood quickly and wiped her eyes. “Diana?” Shaking her head, Zelda made for the door. “I’ll go get Sabrina for you. You’ll want to speak to her—” 

“It’s you I want to speak with, Zelda.” Diana’s rasping voice caught her halfway across the room and Zelda spun slowly, confused. “I’ve already said my goodbye to Sabrina. It wasn’t nearly all I wanted to say, or what she wanted to hear, but I have little time left in this realm and there were others I **had** to talk to.” 

Unsure, Zelda nodded and straightened her shoulders, waiting for Diana to continue; knowing the woman wouldn’t be stretching herself this thin to listen to Zelda talk. 

A sad smile appeared on Diana’s face. “Thank you,” she murmured, taking a step closer so she wouldn’t have to speak as loudly. At Zelda’s perplexed expression, she elaborated. “Thank you for being a mother to Sabrina. She’s grown to be an amazing young woman, and I know that is largely due to you. I’m sorry I couldn’t repay the favor by doing more for Leticia.” Diana gestured to Letty who was snuggled into Zelda’s chest and more tears slid down Zelda’s cheeks at the reminder of her decision. Noticing, Diana reached out as if to touch her and then let her hand fall, knowing physical contact was impossible. “You’re a wonderful mother, Zelda, and Sabrina knows this. If I couldn’t be the one to raise my daughter… well, I am happy you were.” 

Choking back sobs, Zelda shook her head. “Diana, I am so sorry—” 

Diana held up a hand. “Don’t be. I’ve learned many things in the afterlife and an understanding of your reluctance to let me into the family is one of them. Now, I have very little time left, I can feel the spirit realm calling me. There is something I **must** warn yo—” 

Before she could finish, though, Diana vanished. Her form turning to mist and dissipating. 

Taken aback, Zelda moved closer and tested the air with a spell. But it only confirmed what she was already sure of, Diana was gone. Not even a trace of her spirit left. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Zelda set Letty into her crib and before she could decide what to do about Diana’s visit, a soft knock sounded on the door. 

Knowing it was Hilda, Zelda sighed and waved a hand to admit her sister into the room. 

“I take it you had a visitor as well?” Zelda asked, shifting so her hip rested on the crib and she was partially facing Hilda. A small squeak and her sister’s teary eyes were all the confirmation Zelda needed. She only hoped Diana thanked Hilda for her part in raising Sabrina as well. But whatever personal matters Diana discussed with Hilda were not her concern. “Did she try and warn you?” 

Eyes widening, Hilda gave her a baffled look. “Warn me? About what?” 

Shrugging, Zelda rubbed the back of her neck. “Diana didn’t have the chance to say… could we bring her back? Ask again?” She lifted her gaze to meet Hilda’s. 

Hilda’s brow furrowed as she thought it through, lips twisting in displeasure when she came to the same conclusion Zelda had—she’d hoped Hilda could come up with something though. “She’s not in limbo anymore, Zelds.” Hilda said, sitting on the bed and tucking a leg underneath her. “Diana’s resolved what held her here, the thought that Sabrina wouldn’t be loved and protected as Diana would have loved and protected her. And with that resolved…” She threw her hands up in defeat. “It’s likely Diana has moved on to whatever afterlife exists for mortals, she wouldn’t have gone over to the witching one.” 

Scowling, Zelda spun her rings. “I thought as much. Likely the only reason she was able to break through the barrier in the first place was because of the Solstice.” 

Nodding solemnly, Hilda hummed in agreement. “You truly have no idea what she meant to warn you about?” 

A huff of amusement escaped her. “Not the faintest. Diana and I were hardly close, why she thought to warn me?” Zelda lifted a shoulder and sat on the bed next to Hilda. “And if it were truly so dire, wouldn’t she have led with that? Not gone on about other things?” 

Hilda patted her leg, “well, no use in worrying over it. If it was about things to come, well, we’ll find out soon enough I suppose.” 

Snorting, Zelda conjured a cigarette, lit it and took a long drag; she certainly needed the calming effects of nicotine after everything that had passed in the last few hours. 

Her sister eyed the cigarette with dislike but said nothing, knowing Zelda had charmed the things long ago so the smoke wouldn’t affect others. Instead, she turned to the topic Zelda wanted to avoid more than anything; Leticia. 

“Are you really going to give her up?” The question came as a whisper, as if it weren’t spoken loudly then the idea could be taken back. Zelda nodded stiffly and leveraged herself off the bed and over to the crib to watch Letty sleep, her back to her sister. Undeterred, Hilda pushed on. “Have you even contacted Abigail about this?” She demanded, addressing Zelda’s back. 

Hunching her shoulders, Zelda bit out her response. “Not yet. It’s only been an hour since I made the decision and quite a lot has happened. Besides, it’s late and can wait until morning.” 

Exhaling forcefully through her nose, Hilda stood as well; or so the slight creak of the bed springs told Zelda, she still had her back to her sister. “And how do you know Abigail and Rebecca will even take Leticia in? They want another child, yes, but they may want one of their own.” 

Zelda refused to believe her dearest friend would turn Leticia away and told Hilda as much. “Abigail was absolutely smitten with Letty. As you said, she and Rebecca are looking to add a child to their family; specifically, a little girl. So, it’s perfect, works out for everyone.” 

“But does it work for you, Zelds?” Hilda asked quietly, coming to stand next to Zelda at the crib. 

Running her tongue over her teeth, Zelda kept her eyes stubbornly locked on Letty. “What does or doesn’t work for me is meaningless.” 

Undaunted still, Hilda took it even further. “And Faustus?” 

She flinched, but it wasn’t as though she’d forgotten about Faustus when she’d come to this conclusion. “He will understand,” Zelda remarked, voice taut. “He’s already done what was best for Leticia before, he will do it again now.” 

“Giving Leticia to you, someone he, he…” Hilda struggled to find a word to describe what she and Faustus were to one another, and if that didn’t define her relationship with the warlock, well, Zelda didn’t know what did. Eventually, though, Hilda came up with something. “He has a history with you, Zelds. A tricky one, but a deep one. Letting you take Letty is vastly different from letting Abigail take her.” 

Gripping the edge of the crib tightly, Zelda swallowed hard. “ _My decision is **final** , Hilda_.” She ground out, knuckles going white and her cigarette crumbling. “Nothing you say will convince me that Leticia should stay here. Not when she may be in danger. She is **going**. Letty is going somewhere safe, and I will hear no more on the matter.” Zelda angrily waved a hand and what remained of her cigarette disappeared. 

With that, Hilda was spun and magically ushered out of the room, the door snapping shut behind her. Hilda rapped on the door once more, but Zelda merely cast a silencing spell and went to bed. 

Chest heaving with emotion, Zelda cried herself to sleep. 

~~~~~~~~~ 

She woke the next morning to Ambrose gently shaking her shoulder. “Morning, Auntie Zee.” He greeted softly, setting a cup of black coffee on her nightstand. “It’s getting close to 8:00am I wanted to come check on you.” 

Slowly, Zelda propped herself up against the headboard and she took a sip of coffee. “Thank you,” she murmured, eyes automatically drifting to check on Leticia, tears coming to them unbidden at the reminder that she soon would be parted from the girl. 

Ambrose tentatively took her free hand. “When, when I was telling you my concerns before… I never meant—” 

A small, tremulous smile tugged on Zelda’s lips. “I know, darling.” She interrupted, putting her coffee down and touching his cheek. “But you were right.” 

“I didn’t want to be.” Ambrose told her vehemently, sliding onto the bed next to her and pressing his shoulder against hers. 

Leaning into the contact, Zelda nodded. “Nor did I want you to be. And I was so obstinate about it, so arrogant to think I had it all figured out, I ignored the risks. Put Leticia in danger.” 

He rested his head on her shoulder and retook Zelda’s hand, squeezing it hard. “No, you didn’t. You had it all planned, perfectly, I might add. There was just a wrench thrown into it we couldn’t have ever anticipated.” Glancing up at her, Ambrose squeezed her hand again. “I’m so, so very sorry, auntie.” 

“Thank you, dear.” Zelda whispered, turning her head to kiss the top of Ambrose’s before resting her cheek there. And for the longest time, her sweet nephew sat with her like that and watched as Leticia amused herself by reaching for the mobile Faustus had conjured for her. 

~~~~~~~ 

They made it through the next several days without mishap, praise Satan, Zelda didn’t think she could handle another one. She was barely holding it together as is, and her family constantly blindsiding her to try and convince her to keep Leticia made it no easier. 

Only Sabrina left Zelda alone in terms of her decision. That was, until it was two nights away from when Zelda was supposed to take Letty over to Abigail’s. 

She’d been sitting in the parlor, playing with Leticia on the floor—selfishly keeping the babe up past her bedtime so she could spend more time with her—when Sabrina joined her; sitting on the floor and curling into Zelda’s side. Without thinking, Zelda slipped an arm around Sabrina’s shoulders and pulled the girl closer into her side; needing her girls close to her. 

“Auntie….” 

Sighing, Zelda withdrew her arm, recognizing the tone her niece was using. “Sabrina, _don’t_.” And she knew she sounded weary, she certainly felt it. It’d been heart wrenching enough to come to this decision, to actually contact Abigail and ask her to take Letty in, to arrange all the details for the day she’d give her baby girl away. 

It’d been heart wrenching, utterly devastating, and Zelda didn’t need every single person questioning her, making it even more unbearable than it already was. Clearly sensing there was nothing she could say to change the situation, Sabrina nodded, slipped her arm through Zelda’s and together they played with Letty until it was time for the babe to go to bed. 

~~~~~~~~ 

Faustus… Faustus wasn’t so easily bullied into leaving her alone about the matter though. Not that she tried to bully him, but he was reluctant, to say the least, about the arrangements she’d made. 

She couldn’t blame him. He hadn’t been there, hadn’t seen Gryla’s sheer determination, the woman’s almost complete lack of expression, her only goal to take Letty simply to take her not because she loved or truly wanted her. Zelda knew the witch would come back; whether it was a day, a month or a full year… Gryla would come back for Leticia if only to hurt Zelda and to exact revenge for being tricked. 

In the end, she’d had to show Faustus her memories of the night to get him to understand why she was so scared, why she felt this was the only recourse. 

Even then, Faustus fought against it. Suggested he talk to Gryla personally, explain how he was the father and had given Leticia to Zelda for fostering. Perhaps if Gryla understood the situation, knew Letty wasn’t orphaned at all, she wouldn’t try and steal the child again. 

Though it was a lovely idea…. Ultimately, it was wishful thinking to assume Gryla would care about the circumstances that had led to Leticia being in Zelda’s charge. There was the risk too that Gryla would expose them for hiding Leticia. Any number of other high priests or coven members would pay a hefty price for dirt on Faustus, on Zelda herself, they couldn’t risk Gryla selling them out to the highest bidder. 

And, well, there was always the chance Gryla might simply eat Faustus and steal Leticia anyway. What did she care about the parentage of one babe? Besides, if she killed and ate Faustus then Leticia would be an orphan in truth and Gryla would have a greater claim over her; in the woman’s mind, at least. 

No, they couldn’t risk Faustus approaching Gryla in the hopes they could reason with her. It was best to hide Letty away; no matter how much pain it inflicted on those giving her up. 

When he finally agreed to allowing Abigail and her family take Leticia in, Faustus insisted on meeting them (or in Abigail’s case, meet her again). And though Zelda hated to take it from him, she had to deny Faustus the chance to meet the people who would raise his daughter. Zelda understood why he wanted to, Heaven, she’d want to meet anyone who took Letty in as well and the babe wasn’t even her child. But the fewer people who knew of Leticia’s true heritage the better and Faustus going to Abigail’s would blow the whole thing. 

So, they compromised. Faustus would bring Judas over the night before Zelda was due to take Leticia away. The two would stay the night, bid their goodbyes the next morning and then wait for Zelda to return. Faustus was far from pleased about it, but then again, there was no way to truly be happy about how things had played out. 

The doorbell sounding made Zelda cringe. Because it meant it was almost time. Almost time to say goodbye to her baby girl; and she wasn’t ready. Faustus came and found her where she was hiding in her room, laying on her side on the bed, Leticia next to her gurgling happily. 

“Zels,” he murmured, a hand brushing along her shoulder as he rounded the bed, laying Judas next to his sister before climbing on as well, mirroring her position so they bookended the babes. 

She couldn’t meet his eyes at first, guilt wracking her body. All of this, all of it was her fault. And though she knew an apology was far from enough, was so woefully insufficient it was almost laughable to make one… Zelda swallowed hard and forced herself to look up at the warlock laying on the bed across from her. “Faustus,” she breathed, tears already springing to her eyes where they so often were these days. “I’m so very, deeply, sorry. I—” 

Not taking his eyes off the babes, Faustus reached over them and took the hand Zelda had resting on her hip and squeezed. “I know.” He whispered, not giving her the absolution everyone else had, knowing she wouldn’t believe it. “But,” he licked his lips and brought his eyes to hers, “Leticia will be well cared for, happy, loved in her new home… yes?” And the desperate plea in his expression for his words to be true shattered one of the larger fragments of Zelda’s already broken heart even further. 

Gripping his hand back fiercely, Zelda nodded. “Leticia will be their daughter.” She reassured him, though her voice cracked a little at the declaration. “She will want for nothing; she will be loved and happy and carefree and _she will be safe_.” 

A jerky nod and glazed eyes were all she got in response, but Faustus continued to hold her hand as they lay next to the babes, their arms hovering slightly over the children. The children grew restless after a while and so they picked them up and moved to the floor to play. And if Faustus dominated Leticia’s time… well, Zelda couldn’t, wouldn’t, begrudge him that. She’d had a full week to say goodbye, after all. 

Too soon it was time for bed, and Faustus gingerly laid Leticia down, caressing her cheek as he did. A small sniffle sounded from him, but Zelda wisely ignored it and simply put Judas down next to his sister, a smile coming to her lips when the babes automatically curled into one another. 

Clearing her throat, Zelda turned to Faustus, suddenly unsure. “If, if you wish I can conjure another bed. I would understand if recent events have, have put you off our—” 

But he didn’t let her finish, Faustus cut off her sentence with a crushing hug. Holding her against him so tightly it was slightly difficult to breathe; and she returned the hug in force. Both needing, desperately, to cling to something and as they couldn’t hold on to Leticia—in any interpretation of the word—they’d hold on to one another. 

A sigh of relief left her; he wasn’t going to cast her aside for this. Wasn’t going to end whatever was between them, wasn’t going to blame her—though he should have. She wouldn’t have blamed him for any kind of cruel or aloof treatment she received; it was nothing less than she deserved. Zelda had promised to look after his daughter, to raise her, love her, protect her. And barely a month after all these promises were made Zelda had broken every single one. 

Well, except for one. She would always love Letty. 

Regardless, Faustus had every right to spurn her. But he was better than that, better than cruel and aloof treatment; at least with her. She knew that, and it was only her own demons saying otherwise, saying she deserved punishment. It was harder to silence them these days… when she couldn’t turn to flagellation. But Faustus’ acceptance, his presence…. Well, it made the demons a little quieter tonight. 

So, with little else to do, they readied for bed and laid down with Zelda closest to the crib and Faustus curled around her, his head propped up on an extra pillow so he could watch the babes as well. 

“Did Prudence come and say her goodbyes?” The question broke the silence they’d been laying in for several minutes. 

Nodding, Zelda boldly intertwined her fingers with the hand Faustus had draped around her waist. “Yes, she came by yesterday. She was rather stoic, when I told her what was happening and why. Though she did spend an hour or so in the office with Leticia on her own; I heard her talking to Letty a few times, nothing more than murmurs but it was sweet nonetheless.” Zelda licked her lips and then continued. “Prudence did ask, before she left, that I refer her to Abigail as a babysitter.” 

Faustus shifted behind her and tightened his fingers around hers. “Is that not dangerous?” 

And Zelda could tell from his tone Faustus thought it unfair that Prudence would get to see her sister, get to meet the family who would raise her, while he was being purposely kept in the dark. 

She leaned more heavily against him, trying to provide comfort. “Prudence’s movements are hardly monitored,” Zelda reminded him gently. “She can come and go from the academy as she pleases, and no one questions it. They would question it if it were you. It’s not fair, but it’s true.” She murmured, though it wasn’t as if Faustus really needed the reminder that he was a prominent figure in the community. “And though it might be a slight inconvenience for Abigail to have a new sitter, it would be a means of keeping an eye on Leticia. I couldn’t help but agree to the request; Prudence clearly wanted to remain in her sister’s life in some capacity, how could I refuse?” 

Sighing heavily, Faustus pressed against her harder, as if trying to meld their bodies together. “You were right to agree, I just…” He trailed off and Zelda could tell he was looking at Leticia. Wishing he could be in his daughter’s life in some capacity as well, even if just as the high priest and headmaster as he’d been for Prudence. 

“I know,” Zelda breathed, her heart twisting wretchedly at the circumstances. “I am so sorry, Faustus.” She managed thickly, tears coming easily and clogging her throat. She felt him kiss the back of her head and then settle down completely on the bed behind her, head no longer propped up to see the twins. 

“As am I.” Came a quiet reply, and Faustus clutched her tighter still before burying his face in her hair. Some time later, he drifted off. 

Sleep didn’t take Zelda so easily; or so peacefully. Every time she closed her eyes, she imagined the Yule Lads were back and had stolen Leticia or she pictured Gryla tearing her babe in two rather than let Zelda win the test Diana had set them. 

Each nightmare had her jerking up, heart pounding and looking frantically over to the crib to reassure herself Letty was safe. The third time she jolted awake, she woke Faustus as well. 

He got up without a word, rounded the bed and lay on Zelda’s other side so she could rest her head on his chest as he ran his hand up and down her back soothingly, all while still being able to see Leticia. 

Zelda gave him a light squeeze with the arm she’d wrapped around his middle in thanks. Another soft kiss on the top of her head was the only acknowledgement she received in return; for which Zelda was immensely grateful. She was well aware neither of them would normally be so raw with one another. But, considering the circumstances, she’d take and give all she could. And if they never spoke of these moments stolen in the dark again, well, then Zelda would know they were back on familiar ground. 

For now, though, they would lay together, in the predawn hours and mourn the loss of Leticia before she was even gone. They’d mourn the could-be’s, what should-have beens and all the other moments in between. They’d draw strength from each other’s solid, if silent, presence. 

When they finally gave up the pretense of sleep, Faustus leveraged himself out of bed and delicately lifted Leticia into his arms, murmuring quietly to the girl when she whined slightly in hunger. 

It was a slow goodbye. Taking over an hour and including a feeding and a changing; Faustus handling everything for Leticia as they cared for the twins. The clock chiming 9:00 told them it was time and Faustus whispered several protective spells over Letty before kissing her forehead and handing her over to Zelda. 

“We’ll be here when you return.” He promised, a hand resting on her hip and the other on Leticia’s head. 

Nodding, Zelda shakily took a step back and teleported away—her family having said their goodbyes last night before Faustus and Judas arrived. 

And though he knew it was illogical, Faustus could have sworn the room was darker without his girls in it. He stood in the middle of Zelda’s bedroom for some time, unsure what to do and trying to ignore the aching developing in his chest. He didn’t have much time to process the loss, though. The pocket mirror he kept on him at all times started to ping and flash, an emergency at the academy; one Shirley apparently couldn’t handle by herself. 

Satan knew why he’d left her in charge. Snarling, Faustus waved a hand to get dressed, scooped up Judas and made his way downstairs. Thankfully he only encountered Hilda. Furious and practically spitting fire, Faustus explained what was happening and told the younger witch he’d return as soon as possible. 

Smiling sadly at him, Hilda offered to watch Judas for the day—the slight shine in her eye telling him that she already felt the void of the little girl she’d thought was to be her niece. Unfortunately, he had to refuse, knowing it’d be suspicious if Judas wasn’t with either him or the nanny. 

Giving Hilda a curt nod, Faustus messaged the nanny to meet him at the academy so she could care for Judas and then teleported away. 

~~~~~~~~ 

Zelda hesitated on the porch. Unable to bring herself to knock. Surely, Abigail sensed her arrival, her wards alerting her to the visitors now dawdling on her front step. Her friend let her stand there, though. Graciously giving her the time she needed to muster the strength to knock on the door and fully initiate the final step in handing Leticia over. 

She almost turned around. Almost went back home with Letty in her arms, dangers be damned because Letty was **her** daughter. But Zelda couldn’t do that. Couldn’t be so selfish. So, instead, she raised a trembling hand and knocked—and if the sound was a sad, pathetic little thing that surely no one inside heard unless they were pressed against the door, well, it couldn’t be helped. 

Abigail must have been doing just that, waiting against the door, because the thing swung open immediately. Saving Zelda the torture of having to knock again—Abigail knew her well. 

“Zee,” she smiled sadly and ushered her inside. “And little Leticia, hello sweet thing.” Abigail cooed over Letty, lightly bopping the girl’s nose and making her smile. 

As she followed Abigail to the sitting room, Zelda couldn’t help how the corner of her mouth tugged upwards at the chaos. She’d forgotten what a home with small children was like. The clothes and toys strewn around the place, the muddy shoe prints trekking across the floor and familiars chasing after them to ensure they didn’t get into anything too dangerous. It’d been something she was looking forward to, but it would be routine to Abigail and Rebecca. 

“Sorry for the mess, I know it doesn’t look like it, but we cleaned the place up for you.” Abigail smiled at her wryly and hurriedly collected a few things off the couch so Zelda could sit. 

Before Zelda could dismiss the concern, state she appreciated the mess, they so rarely got to live so freely—running a business out of the house made it so they were hyperaware of all personal belongings left on the first floor—Rebecca breezed into the room, carrying a tray of tea. 

“Hello, hello,” she greeted cheerily, placing a quick kiss on Zelda’s cheek as she set the tray down, pushing aside an abandoned art project as she did. “Who do we have visiting?” Rebecca’s voice pitched up a little at the end as she glanced at Leticia and Abigail shot her wife a warning look that told Zelda her friend had tried to temper Rebecca’s excitement about adopting Letty by telling her it might not happen. That they might just be ‘visiting’. 

The gesture hurt, not because it was insensitive, but because it was so obviously sensitive. Sensitive to Zelda’s feelings, to controlling their own so as not to pour salt into an already raw wound. Clearing her throat, Zelda tilted her arms so Rebecca could see Letty better. “This is Leticia,” she informed the woman, proud of how little her voice shook. Rebecca, Satan bless her, made no move to take Leticia, didn’t ask to hold her as was customary when first meeting a new baby—adoption or no. And whether this was another instruction from Abigail or just Rebecca sensing that Zelda couldn’t bear to part with the girl yet, she was grateful. She wasn’t sure they’d have been able to pry Letty from her arms if they’d asked to hold her. 

They fell into small talk, catching up on years’ worth of news, carefully avoiding recent events in the Spellman house less they touch on painful topics. The boys barreled in at some point, breathless and excited, they kept a respectable distance from Leticia, though they jostled one another slightly to get a better look at her. Their new sister. No one said as much, Zelda could tell the boys had been coached as well, but it filled the room, the huge, unspoken thing. That this baby girl, no longer hers, would be staying with them. Would become a part of their family, a daughter, a sister… 

Suddenly Zelda was blinking back tears, the blasted things stinging her eyes once more. Licking her lips, Zelda asked the boys if they wanted to hold Leticia. They lit up at the suggestion, hurriedly taking places on the couch, pillows stuffed under an arm to help prop Letty up. 

Carefully, Zelda laid Leticia in Ben’s arms, Finn crowding his older brother to peer at the babe, broad smiles on their faces. 

She should have left then. Left and not looked back. But she lingered. Lingered far longer than necessary or normal. Zelda knew she should leave, let Abigail and her family get acquainted with the newest addition to their family. But every time she stood to go, Zelda found another excuse to sit back down and cradle Leticia close. 

To their credit, neither Abigail nor Rebecca showed any sign of frustration at her continued presence. In fact, they offered her a reason to stay several times, easily sensing she wasn’t ready to part with Letty just yet. 

It was only when Zelda had been there, quite literally, the entire day, when it was time for Leticia to go to bed, that Zelda forced herself to leave. Even as she made for the front door Zelda couldn’t help but talk over her shoulder, telling Abigail about Leticia’s favorite toy, how to best handle her when she was gassy, and that flipping her over and rubbing gentle circles on her back soothed Letty the fastest when she became truly worked up. 

Tears welled up and Zelda’s throat constricted as she opened the front door, hovering there trying to determine if she’d forgotten anything. “She, she loves her pacifier,” she informed them, voice cracking. “But it falls out of, of her mouth, so you’ll always want to have a few spares in case you don’t notice right away.” 

Abigail nodded and placed a hand on her arm. “Zelda, are you _absolutely_ certain?” 

Her tears spilled over then and Zelda nodded jerkily, unable to speak past the lump in her throat for a moment. “Yes. This is for the best. It’s to protect her, Leticia will be safe and happy and loved with you.” Sniffling, Zelda peered past Abigail to where Rebecca stood in the background, Leticia in her arms. “Greendale isn’t a place to raise a child. The Thirteen, the Red Angel of Death, Gryla and her Yule Lads… and that’s just in the last month. No, it’s best Leticia is here.” 

Pulling her into an almost suffocating hug, Abigail whispered fervently in Zelda’s ear. “We’ll protect her. I swear to you on my life, on Rebecca’s and the boys. Leticia will be safe, happy and loved.” 

Wiping her cheeks clumsily, Zelda held onto Abigail hard. “And I know you already have a sitter, but the girl I mentioned, Prudence, she’s very good with Letty. So, so maybe every now and then, let her take over the duties? Just something to consider…” Zelda added shakily. 

With a final squeeze, Zelda broke the hug. And when Abigail offered to teleport her home, not trusting Zelda’s emotional state to get there herself, Zelda shook her head, stepped back and was gone. Unable to stand being there any longer when she knew it would only prolong the inevitable. 

~~~~~~~~ 

The wards went off, and Hilda’s head shot up from where she’d been chopping vegetables for a stew, Sabrina sitting at the counter, catching up on some work for the academy. Zelda was back. 

Seconds later, the front door opened and then slammed shut. They both rushed to the foyer, but before she or Sabrina could say a word, Zelda was halfway up the stairs; moving mechanically with a hand pressed to her stomach, face white. 

Biting her lip, Hilda led Sabrina back to the kitchen, knowing Zelda wouldn’t want their niece to witness the emotional agony she was experiencing. 

“Is, is she alright?” Sabrina asked in a near whisper, picking up her pen and playing with it uncertainly. 

“No,” Hilda murmured, eyes on the ceiling as footsteps passed overhead. 

Sabrina’s voice caught her attention. “Will she be?” 

Hilda sighed, “in time. Until then, she can’t do anything drastic. I made sure to take her—” She caught herself, almost revealing how Zelda punished herself. 

Brow furrowing, Sabrina stopped fiddling with her pen. “Took her what?” 

Well, apparently, she hadn’t been quick enough in cutting herself off. Jaw clicking shut, Hilda shook her head. “Nothing.” She replied uneasily, going back to her chopping, her knife just a tad too aggressive. 

“Aunt Hilda?” 

She turned her back to Sabrina completely and began to fuss with the stove, eyes glancing up at the ceiling periodically at the sound of moving furniture. Too easily remembering the scene she’d walked in on just a few weeks ago. 

How the act had immediately followed Zelda’s fight with Sabrina, the one where their niece yelled that Zelda wasn’t her mother. And now, here her sister was, letting go of a girl she considered a daughter so soon after Gryla cruelly proclaimed Zelda wasn’t a mother. 

But it would be different this time. Hilda knew, she’d prepared; hidden away Zelda’s flogs and locked them in her trunk with an alarm spell. 

Suddenly, the sound of moving furniture stopped and the alarm spell went off in Hilda’s head—warning her that Zelda had tried to force Hilda’s trunk open to get to the flog. And though Zelda hadn’t succeeded in opening the thing, the attempt sent a spike of terror through her. 

“Satan, please no,” she gasped, dropping the spoon she’d been using to stir the stew and taking off up the stairs, Sabrina close on her heels. “I made sure, I made sure… doesn’t matter, never should have left her alone.” Hilda muttered to herself as she barreled towards Zelda’s room. 

Only, only the room was locked both magically and physically. Having none of that, Hilda blast the damn thing open, nearly ripping it off its hinges. Sabrina leapt back in astonishment. “Aunt Hilda!” 

Ignoring her niece, Hilda dashed forward and came upon another horrifying sight. 

In the absence of a flog, and knowing Hilda had been alerted to her attempted break in, Zelda had grabbed the closest thing she could in order to punish herself as much as possible before Hilda burst in. Her sister now had a belt in one hand and was beating her back mercilessly with the buckled end. 

Breath leaving her in a whoosh, Hilda shoved Sabrina back further before she could see and slammed the door behind her; resealing it as she went. “Zelda! No!” Hilda darted forward and wrestled the belt from Zelda, flinging it across the room. 

This time, though, Zelda was prepared for that and before it hit the floor, the belt was zooming back into Zelda’s hand and she managed to get a few more brutal strikes in while Hilda recovered from her shock. 

Furious and scared, Hilda zapped the thing from her sister’s hand, making sure it disappeared after it left Zelda’s possession. 

Crumpling to the floor, loud sobs wracked Zelda’s body. “Gryla was right,” she croaked, arms wrapping around her middle, “I’m not a mother. I don’t know why I ever thought I could be. I failed, Hildie, I failed, I failed, I failed… and failure,” Zelda hiccupped, “failure deserves punishment.” 

Fighting back tears, Hilda dropped to the floor as well and embraced Zelda, careful to avoid the new bruises and the blood trickling down from where the buckle broke skin. A quiet spell stitched the skin back together without a mark and erased the bruises, but the damage had been done. Before Hilda could even begin to address what Zelda said, a knock sounded from the door. 

“Aunties!?” Sabrina inquired through the wood, panicked. And Zelda flinched at their niece’s voice and curled further into herself, whimpering. “Aunties, please!” Sabrina called out again. 

Swallowing hard, Hilda turned her attention to the door. “Sabrina, you _need_ to leave.” She instructed thickly, knowing the last thing Zelda wanted or needed was for Sabrina to see her like this. 

The doorknob rattled a little, Sabrina trying to open it, but the spells held. “I want to help, **please**.” 

Fresh sobs escaped Zelda and she pressed further into Hilda, as if trying to disappear. Unsure how to help her broken sister and deal with a well-meaning, but intrusive, niece, Hilda pressed her lips together. Then she heard murmurs on the other side of the door. Then another knock, this one gentler. 

“Aunt Hilda?” Ambrose tapped on the door once more. “I’m sorry, I was finishing up with a body in the morgue when I heard the noise. What do you need?” 

Gently laying Zelda completely on the ground, Hilda got up and cracked the door open, blocking the opening with her body. “Zelds just got back from Abigail’s, I need some calming tea, foxglove and the broken heart balm.” Ambrose nodded earnestly and was off, Sabrina trailing after him, looking a bit lost. 

Sighing, Hilda closed the door once more and went to help get Zelda ready for bed. 

~~~~~~ 

Ambrose bounded down the stairs and started to pull things from the cupboard, his magic gathering what he needed from the greenhouse and floating it into the kitchen for him. 

Sabrina followed him, anxiously picking at her cuticles. “What can I do?” 

“Learn.” 

Blinking, Sabrina gaped at him. “What?” 

“Learn your actions have consequences!” He bellowed, slamming a cupboard shut. “That they **do not** occur in a bubble of their own and affect only you.” Ambrose set several ingredients on the counter with more force than necessary. “You think after the resurrection you’d realize, after Tommy and Harvey…. But no. You just had to hold a séance on Solstice, which made our home vulnerable to the Yule Lads, which brought Gryla. And **that** is why Aunt Zelda gave up Leticia and is heartbroken and devastated upstairs **right now**!” He volume increased as he continued, but Ambrose found he didn’t care. Nothing else had gotten through to his cousin, maybe this would. “Consequences, coz, consequences. Learn they exist and do well to think of possible ones in the future. Because somehow,” a dark chuckle escaped him, “somehow you’re never the one to pay the price.” 

Taken aback by his outburst, Sabrina immediately became defensive. “I didn’t make Aunt Zelda give Leticia up. I tried to talk her out—” She broke off at his glare. 

Scoffing, Ambrose looked around the room as if trying to find someone else responsible. “Oh, oh so you’re not the reason she was forced to give up Leticia?” His tone was mocking, but Ambrose was past caring if he was cruel. “You’re not the reason she’s crying instead of smiling, laughing and happier than I’ve seen her in almost a decade? Well, that’s good news, isn’t it? It’s someone else’s fault Leticia is gone.” 

Nose wrinkling in anger, Sabrina crossed her arms. “You were the one saying we couldn’t keep Leticia a secret just the other day. Implying we needed to get rid—” 

“Voicing doubts and concerns **is not** the same. Not the same as putting our whole family at risk for a conversation _I told you to wait to have_.” He emphasized the last few words with jabs of his finger against the countertop. “But you didn’t listen. Again.” Ambrose threw his hands up in defeat, then put the kettle on the stove to heat, giving it a boost with a silent spell. “Went against my advice. Me, who knows something about being a bit reckless and the cost. Me, who’s been around far longer than you and has a better understanding of magic and our realm. But no, Sabrina knows best.” 

She pressed her lips into a thin line and tears were in her eyes when he finished. Guilt tried to sweep through him, but Ambrose pushed it away. Though perhaps said in an unnecessarily harsh manner, he meant every word and refused to take them back. 

The tea kettle whistled and Ambrose picked up it and added to the tray that had been preparing itself. “That is what you can do coz, you can finally learn a lesson.” With that he picked up the tray and headed back upstairs, leaving Sabrina behind. 

~~~~~ 

By the time Ambrose returned, Hilda had managed to get Zelda to change into pajamas and into bed. She’d climbed in as well, cradling Zelda, stroking her hair and humming an old lullaby their mother used to sing to them—knowing any words of comfort would fall short, wouldn’t break through, not yet. 

Ambrose set the supplies down on the nightstand next to Hilda, leaned over to give them each a kiss on the cheek and left with a quiet request that they send for him if they needed anything. 

Giving him a sad smile, Hilda nodded and resealed the room after his departure. Carefully extracting herself from her sister, Hilda leaned over to pick up the balm, passing it to Zelda. “You’re to use it properly this time,” she ordered, watching as Zelda unscrewed the top and took a generous dollop of the ointment and rubbed it on her chest. Hilda snatched the container back before Zelda could even think about getting more and put the lid back on, setting it aside and out of Zelda’s reach. 

Only then did she pour the tea, adding a large dose of foxglove, before handing this over as well. 

Zelda drank it quickly, too ready to lose herself in oblivion for Hilda’s taste, but she held her tongue. This was a deep, painful loss and it would take time for her sister to recover. And with Hilda now monitoring the unhealthy ways Zelda used to cope, it might take a little longer; Zelda needed to develop new, and better, coping methods after all. But Hilda knew she would be there every single step of the way, doing everything she could to ensure her sister’s safety and health. 

Settling back onto the bed, Hilda pulled Zelda into her again, cuddling her big sister. And one thought kept bouncing around Hilda’s head, and she found she couldn’t wait until morning to address it. 

“You promised,” she murmured, tears returning to her eyes. “Promised you wouldn’t do that anymore.” It’d been because of this promise, and the fact that she’d hidden the flog, that Hilda thought it alright to give Zelda space, time to process what happened. Both of those safety nets had failed. 

“Hildie, please,” Zelda begged, her eyes drooping from the foxglove. “It was the only thing that could drown out the other pain.” Her voice cracked with emotion despite the balm and Zelda’s body trembled in Hilda’s arms. “Please don’t tell Sabrina about her parents. I can’t. We’re finally in a good place. I can’t lose _both_ my girls at once. I can’t handle her hating me again,” she whimpered, tears falling fast. 

Struggling to keep her composure, Hilda shook her head vehemently. “That certainly isn’t how to deal with pain,” she remonstrated, clutching Zelda to her harder. Then the rest of the words registered. Blinking, Hilda pulled back slightly and forced Zelda to look at her. “Sabrina’s **never** hated you! You, you don’t truly believe that, do you?” 

Zelda’s chin trembled and she didn’t respond beyond burying her face against Hilda’s collarbone and sobbing. 

Heart breaking further, Hilda hugged her sister close and whispered as many comforting and kind things she could think of, unsure how Zelda got to a place where she thought so little of herself. Unsure how she’d ever let her sister think so little of herself, to think she was unloved even by her own family. Hilda had known Zelda found it difficult to trust, to let others in, but she’d _never_ could have imagined it was this bad. 

Making up her mind, Hilda tucked a now sleeping Zelda further under the covers and made her way downstairs and into the office to do some additional research on the computer. 

~~~~~~~~ 

Sometime later, light filtered into the room and Zelda turned her head to find Sabrina slipping inside. 

Quietly shutting the door behind her, Sabrina crept towards the bed. “Hi auntie,” she breathed, getting on the bed and wrapping an arm around Zelda’s waist and pressing her cheek to Zelda’s back. 

She flinched at the touch, not from pain—Hilda had seen to her back, though Zelda would have welcomed the aching—but from the anticipation of it. 

Misreading her reaction, Sabrina sniffed. “I’m sorry, Auntie Zee. So, so sorry. I never…. You always protected me. I should have done a better job at protecting Leticia. I’m sorry, I thought the silencing spells already in place would be enough.” She whispered thickly, and an aborted sob shook Zelda’s body causing Sabrina to press closer to her, so Zelda could feel her niece’s tears soaking through her nightgown. 

With an effort, Zelda took one of Sabrina’s hands and kissed the back of it, pinning it to her chest afterwards. “It’s not your fault, sweetheart.” She managed, thinking of all the ways she could have prevented the events leading to Gryla’s visit. “Gryla, she, she has special abilities when it comes to seeking out children. You couldn’t have known the spells wouldn’t work… I should have.” Before Sabrina could argue, Zelda continued heavily, the foxglove threatening to pull her under before she finished. “In any case, this is for the best. I never should have tried to keep Letty; it was too big of a risk. This, this is the safest for everyone.” 

And though she was doing her damnedest to keep the tears out of her voice, from the way Sabrina snuggled closer to her, Zelda knew she’d failed in that as well. 

“I love you, Aunt Zelda. So much.” Sabrina declared, curling around Zelda completely. 

Taking an uneven breath, Zelda kissed Sabrina’s hand once more. “I love you too, darling.” She replied before letting the foxglove drag her from consciousness. 

~~~~~~~ 

Faustus used the last of his energy to teleport back to the Spellman’s, the emergency at the academy turning into four and keeping him there well past midnight. 

Knowing he looked haggard, Faustus trudged up the porch steps and let himself in with the special spell Zelda had given him so he could come and visit her and Leticia more discreetly. A light on in the kitchen drew him in like a moth, and Faustus half expected to find Zelda passed out at the table, a decanter of whiskey in front of her. 

To his immense surprise though, it was Hilda who was at the table drinking. Furrowing his brow, Faustus looked around for Zelda and didn’t see her, the rest of the first floor dark. “Where is she?” 

“Upstairs.” 

Panic flashed through him, as did images of the various scars on Zelda’s back. “ _You left her **alone**_?!” He speared a hand through his hair, already spinning to run up the stairs. “Satan, Hilda she might have—” 

“She did.” 

The words froze him at the bottom of the steps. “You know?” 

Lifting a brow, Hilda conjured a second glass and nodded at the chair across from her as she poured another serving of whiskey. “So do you.” She retorted, tone clipped, and Faustus could see the exhaustion weighing on her. 

Tilting his head in acknowledgement, Faustus joined the younger Spellman sister at the table and downed the entire glass. “What happened?” 

Slowly, and with frequent refills, Hilda told him of how she found out, of what happened tonight. She finished by muttering into her drink, “my fault, really. Never should have left her alone.” 

Faustus shook his head, “no. It’s my fault. I promised to be here; I should have been here. I—” And the words caught in his throat and tears threatened. But he choked them back, it was one thing to be like this with Zelda, quite another with Hilda, or anyone else for that matter. Clearing his throat, Faustus knocked back the rest of his most recent refill and stood. “I’m going to check on her.” 

Nodding, Hilda patted his hand where it rested on the table. “We _need_ to take care of her.” 

“We will, I promise. And **nothing** will keep me from doing that.” Faustus vowed solemnly, turning and leaving the kitchen to find Zelda. 

What he found instead, to his continued surprise, was another Spellman. Sabrina was laying on the bed with her aunt when Faustus opened the door. She blinked, disoriented and clearly waking from a partial slumber. 

“Ms. Spellman,” he stated quietly, trying not to sound too shocked. 

The girl regained herself quickly and narrowed her eyes at him, “Father Blackwood.” She replied in an equally soft voice, though her tone was edged as well. Evidently, current events hadn’t improved her perception of him. 

At the mention of his name, though, Zelda stirred. “Faustus?” She mumbled groggily, rolling slightly to see him. And he was only able to make out a sliver of her face in the dark, but even from that, Faustus could see how devastated she was, and it nearly killed him. 

While he’d accepted the fact that he’d never raise his daughter or have her see him as a father when he surrendered Leticia to Zelda… Zelda was coming to terms with this set of facts now, and Faustus knew exactly how she felt. Zelda reached out a hand to him, and he hurriedly rounded the bed to take it and hold it to his lips. 

Huffing, Sabrina threw him one final look and got off the bed, leaving the room and shutting the door behind her. 

A small whimper and a tug of his hand had Faustus rushing to toe off his shoes and throwing his tie on the ground before joining Zelda on the bed. She instantly curled into his side, pressing her face into his neck. 

“I lost our girl, Faustus.” She slurred a little, still under the effects of the foxglove. 

Faustus’ insides clenched at her words, the implication of them if only she’d been lucid enough to truly mean them. Their girl. Leticia had been their girl, in Zelda’s mind. Swallowing, Faustus rolled onto his side and gathered Zelda into his chest, her head fitting neatly under his chin as he held her close and stroked her hair and back. “It wasn’t your fault,” he murmured, knowing she wouldn’t believe it but needing to say it anyway. Where he’d held back earlier today because he knew Zelda didn’t want to hear it, he was saying it now because he knew Zelda needed to hear it. “It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t. I should have helped put more safety measures in place. I should have been here for the Solstice; church traditions be damned.” 

She gasped at his statement, it was dangerously close to heresy, but did nothing besides grasp his collar with one hand while the other slid around his waist to hold him closer. They laid there for some time, taking turns trembling with tears and clutching at one another as though the other was the only thing in the realms grounding them. 

In time, the foxglove took Zelda under once more and Faustus followed her not long after, the emotional toll of letting Leticia go again and the emergencies from the day exhausting him. 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

To Zelda’s dismay, Faustus had to leave early the next morning. He’d been away from Judas for far too long. And while his nanny never questioned the odd timings of his coming and goings, he was sure there was a limit to her discretion and did not wish to risk her gossiping with others about the high priest’s erratic schedule. 

He kissed her lightly, then once more a little longer, before embracing her hard, whispering encouragements and endearments into her hair. When he released her, the tender look on Faustus’ face was almost too much, but he teleported away moments later and Zelda contemplated crawling back into bed and sleeping the day away; her eyes drawn to the small container of the broken-heart balm Hilda had left on the nightstand. 

She was making her way over to it when her vanity mirror pinged, causing her to pause. Deciding to ignore the thing, not wanting to deal with whatever coven matter the call was surely about, Zelda reached for the balm. 

The mirror pinged again, more insistently. Frowning, Zelda answered it, knowing she looked a fright and hoping the pallor of her skin would convince the caller she was sick and they’d leave her alone. 

“Satan, Zelda, I’ve been trying to contact you, Hilda or Ambrose for ages!” Abigail exclaimed when her face appeared in the glass. “I wanted to make sure you got home safe last night. But no one answered any of my witching board messages, your telephone went straight to voicemail and the mirrors were blocked. I didn’t teleport over there because Rebecca tethered me to the house; saying I would be intrusive.” 

Lips trembling, Zelda slumped in front of the mirror. A bittersweet feeling sweeping through her at the appearance of her friend. “Abs,” she greeted, resting her head in her hands. “We turn the phone on to automatic at night for the mortuary, the mirrors are still on their nightly schedule when we, we had Leticia so the sounds wouldn’t disturb her, and the witching boards….” Zelda glanced around the room and didn’t see hers. “I honestly don’t think any of us were paying them any attention last night.” 

Softening, Abigail scooted closer to her mirror. “Zee,” she murmured, biting her lip. “None of this has to be permanent. We—” 

Zelda pushed out of her chair and stalked away from the mirror. “Don’t. Not you too. I can’t, I’m not strong enough, Abs. You **know** this is the best decision, whether I or anyone else likes it. It’s the best. Are you saying Rebecca and the boys aren’t ecstatic about Leticia’s presence? About her addition to your family?” Her friend opened her mouth, but Zelda didn’t let her answer. “No need to deny it, I saw their faces. And, and it’s good.” She nodded vigorously to herself. “Leticia is being warmly, enthusiastically, welcomed into your family, as she should and deserves. This is for the best.” 

Glancing away to try and hide how she swiped a few tears off her cheek, Abigail turned back to her. “Zee, I am so sorry.” 

“Don’t be. You, you should be excited. You have the little girl you wanted.” 

Abigail touched the mirror, brow furrowing. “I didn’t want _your_ little girl, Zelda.” 

Rolling her shoulders, Zelda looked away. “She’s not mine. Not anymore.” She retorted brokenly, and before Abigail could say anything else, could ask if Zelda wanted to say hi to Leticia, Zelda said a brisk goodbye and waved her hand to end the call. 

She paced the room a bit, mind racing and heart aching. After a moment, Zelda seized the balm and smeared it across her chest, sighing in guilty relief as the magical properties eased the pain. She shouldn’t be using it; it was an insult to Leticia. To not grieve the loss of her little girl. 

But Zelda had never been good at dealing with pain, no matter how much she liked to tell herself otherwise. So, she added a little more balm to her chest and then got dressed and went downstairs. There were three funerals and a showing to plan and coordinate, after all. 

When Zelda breezed into the kitchen, completely dressed and put together, Hilda about fell over. She’d expected her sister to remain in bed all day. She hadn’t expected Zelda to grab her normal black coffee and stride out of the room, saying over her shoulder that she’d be working in the office if anyone needed her. 

Ambrose turned to gape at Hilda, just as stunned as she was. “What just happened?” 

Shaking her head, Hilda put her breakfast dishes in the sink so they’d automatically start washing themselves. “She’s trying to ignore the pain and act as though it’s all normal.” Hilda frowned, peeking her head around the door and seeing the office door open and Zelda at the desk shuffling papers. 

“How can I help?” 

A smile tugged Hilda’s lips at the question. “I need to run some errands, will you, just, just keep an eye on her? Nothing too obvious, but…” 

Standing, Ambrose nodded. “Of course. I’ve got a new book I want to read and the couch in the office is very comfortable.” 

Exhaling shakily, Hilda tipped onto her toes to kiss Ambrose on the forehead, gathered her purse and was out the door. She took the car; not entirely confident she knew the area she was going well enough to teleport there. 

Though Hilda had researched anxiety and night terrors before, she’d researched it again last night. This time with Zelda’s loss in faith and self-harm in mind. She was certain her sister was suffering from post-traumatic stress from a number of things, stretching back years; perhaps even decades. The agitation, hypervigilance, self-destructive behavior, the anxiety and crushing sense of guilt, her night terrors… it’d been a upsetting list to check off. 

And while Hilda knew she couldn’t get Zelda to see a professional about any of this, couldn’t do anything too obvious least Zelda reject it, Hilda thought she could get away with helping her sister’s anxiety and night terrors. 

Which was how she found herself walking into a specialty store that sold weighted blankets*. 

It wasn’t a guarantee, a form of mortal magic that would fix it all. But the internet provided some compelling evidence and Hilda thought it wouldn’t hurt to try. She didn’t plan on actually buying a blanket, she just wanted to test a few, write down some details so she could make one at home with some spells and charms woven into it. 

The store was a bit overwhelming, the number of choices astonishing. But Hilda moved through them methodically and kept coming back to the same one. When she’d tried it for a third time, a saleswoman came over to help. 

“Hello, I’m Beth. Do you need any help, ma’am?” She asked politely, clasping her hands behind her. 

Starting a bit, Hilda shook her head. “What? Oh, no, I’m just shopping for, for my nephew.” Though she was two towns over, and no one could possibly recognize her, Hilda felt an odd compulsion to protect Zelda’s secret even from this stranger. 

“Alright, you know you can bring him in here so he can try the blankets as well. We work very hard to provide a stress-free shopping environment.” Beth informed her. 

Hilda nodded in acknowledgement. “That would be lovely, I just wanted to come ahead and narrow down the options, make the trip a bit easier.” She gave the excuse quickly, not telling this woman that there was no chance in Heaven she’d ever get Zelda in here. 

Spreading her hands, Beth nodded. “Of course. And if necessary, you can call ahead and book one of our rooms so your nephew can test the blankets in a more private setting.” She indicated to a line of doors along the back wall. 

Floundering a bit, Hilda lifted her chin and hummed. “Well, he has had a bit of trouble getting out of the house in the past.” She had to smother a smile at the comment, knowing it would seem odd if she found it entertaining. 

Beth smiled sympathetically, “agoraphobia isn’t an uncommon condition to have in tandem with more severe forms of anxiety.” 

Slightly surprised by the woman’s knowledge, Hilda started to talk with her about some of the finer details of the blankets. 

“Yes, some have likened the weight of the blankets to that of physical contact.” Beth confirmed when Hilda asked her yet another` question. 

Frowning, Hilda twisted her hands. “But what if Ze—, my nephew,” she hurriedly corrected, “doesn’t like much contact? I mean, he’ll instigate physical contact when someone else is distressed, but receiving it or even asking for it when needed…” 

Unsurprised, Beth touched her arm gently. “That’s also not uncommon,” she reassured. “Many people with anxiety have trouble asking for help because they feel like they’ll be a burden on those they ask. Obviously, it’s not true. But that’s the condition. So, though they may need the comfort and contact, they can’t always ask for it. This blanket can help with that.” 

“And night terrors? I read they could help, help with those?” Hilda asked, trying to sound nonchalant. 

For the first time, Beth hesitated. “Possibly. Weighted blankets can work wonders for people with anxiety and PTSD, which is sounds like your nephew may be displaying some of the symptoms. But results vary person to person. It very may well ease your nephew’s night terrors, but I cannot guarantee that.” 

Humming, Hilda fingered the edges of the blanket once more, committing the details to memory. The mortal version of a weighted blanket might not have any guarantees, but hers, with its spells and charms… just might. Turning back to Beth, Hilda smiled. “Thank you for your assistance, this should hopefully help.” 

Beth inclined her head, “of course. When you come back with your nephew feel free to find me if you need anything.” 

As soon as Beth walked away, Hilda hurried out of the store and to the car. The entire drive home she designed the blanket in her head, cataloguing everything she’d need to weave a night terror proof weighted blanket for her sister. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Though unsurprised she hadn’t been left alone all day, Zelda was mildly stunned Hilda hadn’t been the one babysitting her instead of her nephew. While Ambrose claimed he just wanted to read on the most comfortable couch in the house, Zelda knew he was keeping her company. Sabrina popped in for a few hours as well, sprawling on the floor to do her homework for the academy, before leaving again. Zelda appreciated their presence more than she could say. If she’d had to lose one child, at least she still had her first two. 

When Hilda did come home, she breezed past the office, calling over her shoulder they would have to fend for themselves for dinner and sequestered herself in her room. 

Lifting a brow at Ambrose, her nephew just shrugged, looking equally perplexed at Hilda’s behavior. “Well, if we’re to ‘fend for ourselves’ how does pasta sound?” Zelda asked, pushing away from the desk and heading for the kitchen. 

Together they prepared dinner, Sabrina and Hilda joining a few minutes before the food was ready. Conversation at dinner was strained; Zelda adamantly refusing to discuss Leticia or the day before and Hilda refusing to say where she’d been all afternoon. 

It was only when Zelda went up to bed an hour later, more than ready for an early night and the dreamless sleep foxglove would provide, that she realized what her sister had been doing. Hilda’s bed had been moved back into their old shared room and a new quilt adorned Zelda’s bed. 

Ignoring the fact that Hilda decided to share a bedroom with her again, likely thinking she needed to keep watch over her, Zelda eyed the blanket with confusion. 

“What’s this?” She trailed her fingers along the thing, it was magnificently soft. 

Trying, and failing, to sound nonchalant, Hilda glanced over from where she was changing into her pajamas. “Just something I’ve been working on. Meant to have it done for the holidays but didn’t quite manage. A little something to help with sleep.” 

Rolling her eyes, Zelda moved to change as well. “I don’t—” 

A huff escaped Hilda at the denial and Zelda turned to look at her, brow raised. “You can’t use foxglove forever, Zelds. And unless you want to talk about what’s still plaguing your sleep—” 

“Thank you for the blanket,” she cut in, not wanting to reveal anything else to her sister than she already had. Smiling a little smugly, Hilda nodded at her and climbed into her bed to read. 

Turning away once more, Zelda finished getting ready, drank her foxglove spiked tea and slipped under her new blanket. And Satan help her it was stifling, heavy and thick and overstimulating. Tossing and turning, Zelda almost threw it off, demanded to know what Hilda’s game was… but then, then she settled, and it felt, nice. Though unfamiliar, the weight was comforting. 

It wasn’t much, but it was something. Zelda knew she’d only gotten through today because of the broken-heart balm, would only get through tonight because of the foxglove and Hilda’s miracle blanket. It wasn’t much, but Zelda would take whatever she could to help her get through these upcoming days. And while she may need help, at least she’d gotten through the first day. 

Perhaps that was enough. To make it through one day at a time. 

She’d done it when Edward died. The same approach would work again. It had to. With that as her final thought, prayer really, Zelda allowed herself to be dragged into a drugged sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you guys wanted the happiness to keep going (me too), but unfortunately that’s not the show and you did want season 2… And let’s be real, our girl Zelda wouldn’t get over all her insecurities and issues without some hitches and doubt. Hopefully the next chapter doesn’t take as long but no promises.
> 
> *I did minimal research on weighted blankets and their effects (results on their effectiveness vary) so if you have more information that you think would be important to include, please let me know. I don’t want to be insensitive in any way about it or what people use these for.


End file.
